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The following is a written adaptation of the story drawn by @SuperWaffle and has been agreed in advance with me to add the words. Each chapter will relate to each of the panels as drawn by him Chapter One "You wanted to see me, Prof?" As Tim, one of the college's best basketball players entered the lecture hall where the professor had asked to see him, he was instantly struck by the lack of a professor. "Prof? Are you hiding behind that desk again with another big fat F?" Tim wasn't the smartest person in the college, after all his scholarship was a sports scholarship, but he knew that unless his GPA went up a little his place was at risk, hence the belief that the prof was about to spring another F on him, but as he walked towards the desk at the front of the lecture hall, there was no one else there, save a flask full of a bright, green liquid. Tim looked at it for several moments pondering whether this was a wind up by Hank, his best friend and amateur lightweight bodybuilding champ for the last two years, or whether this was a test by the professor he had been asked to see. Thinking it was the latter and this was a test, he fell back on the little science knowledge he knew Chapter Two "I am examining a flask containing an unknown liquid" he declared, hoping that the professor was hiding and taking notes. "The liquid is bright green and therefore might contain copper. My first assessment is that this is a flask of copper chloride, the green colour being caused by a high concentration of negatively charged chlorine ions". As Tim continued to look at it, he hoped that his bluffing would pay off. He didn't know one end of an ion from the other, but knew the next thing was to smell the chemical so popping off the lid he smelled it. "OH, GOD!" he declared, "THAT IS RANK!" However, just seconds later, Tim froze in place. He could feel something happening to him. His entire body seemed to be unable to move, demonstrated by the lid of the bottle falling to the ground where it smashed. Slowly, the sensation eased, but as it did Tim looked at his hands. Was it his imagination or were they fractionally bigger than they had been a few seconds ago?

The bell rang at St Matthew's University to signal the end of another day. Lee O' Conner, in his 1st year at the uni quickly stuffs his pencil case and books in his bag and makes a quick exit to catch his bus home knowing if he misses it its another half hour wait till the next one. Lee couldn’t wait to get home so he could continue to use his older brothers gym setup they had in the basement of there house. Lee like his older brother had inherited some great family genetics/Genes, his brother was in there local towns rugby team and at 21 had one of the most enviable physiques in the team thanks in equal measure to his genetics and hard work and determination in the gym. Due to the gyms setup the weights were no longer a challenge for his older bro, who now uses a chain gym, so he said he would keep it there for Lee to use if he wanted. Lee who was 17 was no slouch, already broad shouldered and solid of chest and arms, although not a menacing sight as of yet, could probably still handle himself no problem. So Lee rushed out of university and headed for the bus stop which was around a 5 minute walk, the walk takes him down a tree lined passage, on approaching he could hear the sound of faint cheers and egging on, as he turned the corner he saw a group of older students gathered round in a kinda circle, every now then he'd hear the faint noise of something getting smashed together, Lee crept a little closer to try and get a better look without causing distraction. He eventually saw two final year students having a fight, well I say a fight, it was more a one sided beating, the guy dishing it out was a well built older student Lee had seen, although not huge like Lee's brother, he was still thick of chest and beefy strong looking arms, his opponent was a skinny guy who didn’t stand a chance. Punch after punch was getting played on this teens body, Lee could see the blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Now looking at this, most kids would feel sorry for the weak one and label the big guy as full on bully and then run away. But bizarrely a different feeling was filling Lees head, a feeling of ‘serves the kid right for being weak and skinny’. Lee couldn’t keep his eyes of the bully, watching him mercilessly pounding the other guy to a pulp, every now and then balling his hand to a fist and copying the bully's moves. Lee was enjoying watching this, he wanted some of this for himself. “ it’s time for a new bully in this place” he whispered to himself. Lee now had a evil look in his eyes, like he meant business. Lee eventually left and headed for home, now with a definitive purpose in his mind. Lee got home, his older brother not back from his rugby training yet , he headed upstairs and quickly got out of his uni stuff and into some training shorts, he decided to remain topless as his plan was to work his arse off and get sweaty as anything. He turned and looked in the mirror, his solid 17yr old body staring back at him, “ time to make me a mean bastard, wanna get big, wanna get strong and wanna get insanely bad!” he roared to himself. Lee made his way down to the basement, it was a basic gym setup, a bench press with plates upto 20kg, a selection of dumbbells up to 20kg and a standalone cable tower. In the corner of the room hung a punch bag, “ damn I forgot about that, yeeesssss, I’ll be giving that some treatment later!” he said out loud. Luke started with the weights first, he loaded the bench bar with 30g each side, so 80kg including bar weight. He managed a respectable 6 reps before racking it, he jumped up and started dancing around on the spot and let loose some shadow boxing, after a minute of that he loaded the bag with a further 10kg and went onto lift it 4 times, he would stick at that weight for now, and mix bench with shadow boxing. After a few sets of that he moved onto leg work, he grabbed a 20kg db and started some goblet squats, mixing just past parallel with ass to grass, for the last set he decided to use a 20kg db, with a 15kg plate ontop his genetics to thank he managed 8 solid reps, again he did a minute of shadow boxing all the time eyeing up the punch bag. Lee picked up a couple of 16kg dumbbells and started curling them he wanted a good pump on his arms so he did low weight high reps, each set consisted of around 25-30 reps. After those sets he dropped the weights and turned to face the mirror, he flexed his biceps, small peaks appeared on his arms, granted not as impressive as some of the other studs at his uni, but better than all the students in his year. His chest also looking pumped from the workout. Lee wasn't daft, he knew he would have to get a lot bigger and stronger if he wanted to rule the roost at uni , but every bully has to start somewhere right! He turned and eyed the punch bag. He strutted over with a new found belief, he walked round it a few times, danced up and down and hit a few shadow punches, then it began. Lee approached the bag and started pounding it left and right as hard as he could, Lee had quite a strong punch. The onslaught continued for 10 mins and he showed no signs of tiring, sweat was beginning to drip of him. He stopped momentarily to towel himself, then off he went again, this time mixing left/right with single jabs 5 per hand , this mix went on for 15 more minutes, by this time the sweat was pouring off him, aggression had taken over Luke's mind, he pictured in his mind a skinner kid pinned against a wall and him laying punch after punch an evil grin etched on his face. Lee continued to batter the bag for a further 30mins. His knuckles reddening and the bag getting permanent dents in it from the persistent pounding Lee was giving it. Lee’s thoughts were then interrupted by his older brother returning from rugby practice. “ Hey Lee you downstairs? “ his brother Dave called out. A part of Lee was annoyed that he was disturbed, and briefly thought about making him pay such was his aggression thought, but he quickly thought again as his bro was twice the size of him and would make mincemeat out of him without breaking sweat, he let out a muted grumble, “ grrrrr". “ hey bro, yes I’m down here, I’ve finally found a hobby to get into, come and see" Lee replied . His brother came down to the attic and straight away noticed his brothers sweaty pumped appearance and the battered punch bag. “ Boxing??” he replied. “ Yeah non of this football, rugby stuff etc, I’m really enjoying it!” Lee replied. Dave knows all about the physical aspect of sport with playing rugby so he kind of knew his little bro would do some sort of physical hobby but boxing never crossed his mind. Lee had no intention of taking up boxing, this was bully training. Lee wanted to put his training to the test as soon as he could and had made his mind up to do it after uni the next day. After the gym, Dave rustled them both up a protein rich meal of lean beef mince, sweet potato and veg. For the rest of the night, Lee was planning inside his head how to snare his first victim.

Prologue "Oh, Titan, how can I ever thank you?" "I followed your description of the fantasy you had when you proved yourself to be a Titan, Henri, I trust that it meets with your approval?" As Henri gave Porthos a massive kiss, Porthos thought "Yes, it meets with his approval!" As Henri broke off the embrace he looked at the dungeon and started to moan with desire. Exactly as in his fantasy, a few days previously, Porthos had made two rack like devices, each of them made to fit each other with manacles at the base for their ankles and wrists, along side helmets that resembled the type seen on barbarians in the depth of history. Henri's moans grew louder as he started to undress and with the command of "Buckle me, Titan" he was attached to the device that was his size. "When you absorb my strength" said Porthos, his breathing quickening, "break free of these restraints Henri, I beg you" "I will, Titan, if you promise me something in return. Take out the rock in the pocket of my breeches" As Porthos took out the grey coloured rock Henri added "Whilst you were winning the amulet, I was visited by a friend. I didn't know he was a friend at the time, but when I first met him, his eyes just screamed for help and pity, and as you know I would help anyone. Would you like to know what his name was?" Porthos nodded and Henri replied "Ganymede!" "A strange name?" asked Porthos "For a suitably strange lad, you see, Porthos" and with that Henri looked around, "and pray, never tell a living soul this, he was not of this world, he came from beyond the heavens" and with that Henri explained what happened. How having been given a telescope by the Captain in recognition of his qualification as a full blown Musketeer, he set it up that evening along with Aramis to explore the heavens, how he had spied an object, dubbed a meteorite by Aramis, land in the Bois de Boulogne, how, after seeking it to claim it for His Majesty, he came across the strange lad and how, he had ended up defeating an alien munity and been rewarded with the rock that the Titan was holding concluding his memories with "Porthos, Ganymede said that that rock would transfer a fraction of your strength into me, but as we will be using the amulet to do that I want you to transfer a fraction of my intelligence into you to make my fantasy complete. I become the Titan in mind and body and you become me in mind and body. Please, Porthos, I beg you, I have been dreaming about this every night for the last week, please, please, Porthos, I..." "What is our motto, lad" interrupted Porthos, "and our creed?" "All for one and one for all" replied Henri, his eyes closed "There is no need to ask, mon amis" came the reply as Porthos undressed and attaching the manacles to his ankles and then slamming his wrists into the restraints he smiled and with a proud voice declared "Amulet of Athelstan, your victims lie ready!" As the amulet started to glow, Pierre took a deep breath and announced "Dear Ganymede, I call upon your gift" and the rock next to the amulet also started to glow. As the glow brightened, both men started to breathe deeper and their weapons started to engorge, then looking at each other they roared their devices into action "GIVE THE TITAN'S STRENGTH TO THE LAD!" roared Porthos "GIVE THE TITAN MY INTELLIGENCE!" roared Henri Both amulet and rock sent out beams of energy that stimulated both men causing them to moan and groan in a combination of ecstasy and agony and as they did, they resisted the pain and pulled on their restraints, stimulating their organs even more so and as they did the beams became brighter and brighter until unable to stand the glare both men closed their eyes and as they did so they felt compelled to scream the same thing "TRANSFER!" and with that both men were knocked out cold. *** "Oh yes" moaned Henri as he raised his sword to the heavens, his powerful chest no longer burdened by his Musketeer uniform despite the King's emblem emblazoned on his breastplate, "if this is what it means to be the Ultimate form of a Musketeer, then, non, I never want to let it go!" "And neither do I mon amis" moaned Porthos in reply, in an outfit almost the same as Henri's save for the lack of a breastplate, making his pumped pecs easy pickings for Henri's mouth as he first kissed his lover and then started to suck on those five inch long nipples. Indeed it wasn't long before Porthos could barely speak being able to mumble "Ultimate of Titans" which seemed to do just as much for Henri as it did for him, as both men's weapons unloaded over each other causing them to moan in ecstasy As Henri opened his eyes, the moaning of his dream was the first sound he made, any dream that involved him and Porthos expressing their love for each other and their desire to become the biggest, strongest and most powerful men ever to walk the earth always made him moan as he became accustomed to the light the smile of his face grew so large it might have escaped for he was now in Porthos's quarters, just like last time. His body enhanced by the amulet and now able to pass himself off as Porthos where Porthos would now be able to pass himself off as Henri, but this time, thanks to Ganymede's gift instead of having a blank face when he was asked a question his would be the first hand to be raised as the tutor would ask "There is a detachment of Cardinal's guards, two kilometres from you, marching at ten kilometres an hour. You are four kilometres from headquarters and can run at eight kilometres an hour. Which happens first, you reach Headquarters or bash as any guardsmen as you like?" and with that he got out of bed. Stretching out his massive eight foot frame, the sense of power surging through him, he chuckled as he approached the mirror and with his eyes closed jumped in front of his and roared as he puffed out his chest as much as he could and would have moaned "The Titan is awake" if he hadn't opened his eyes and screamed in horror at what he saw. The reflection was that, not of Henri's familiar physiognomy expanded to look like Porthos, but Porthos himself. Patting his face in a panic he tried to reason what was happening and had a frightful thought. What if, instead of transferring a fraction of his intelligence to Porthos, as he had expected, Ganymede's gift had transferred all his intelligence to Porthos and as he looked in the mirror a sense of dread washed over him. His mind was now trapped in Porthos's body and that meant that Porthos's mind was trapped in Henri's body. Panicking, Henri made for the door and found it blocked by the Captain who chuckled "Who's been yanking on your weapon today, eh?" noting that Henri was still naked. As he let himself in, Henri dived back into the bed and covered himself up, an action that the Captain found strange and reassured him "Porthos, I have seen you naked hundreds of times before, once you have seen one weapon you have seen them all!" and with that sat down on the end of the bed and said "I'm sorry to say that you're needed in my office. The Duke's arrived and he is not a happy person!" "BUCKINGHAM?" exclaimed Henri wondering what manner of mess he was involved in now "No, Bavaria!" came the reply as the Captain explained that Duke Christopher had been prevented from attending the strongman contest that Porthos had won due to an internal dispute and felt that he was the strongest man to walk the earth and therefore had come to Paris to challenge Porthos, and of course, the Captain had accepted the challenge and therefore had come to ask "Would you mind if Henri acted as referee, after all his has such the perfect English accent on occasions, you would think he was English himself!" and with that chuckled. Henri didn't know what to think however the Captain took the slight shaking Henri exhibited as approval and said "Excellent, meet me at my office after lunch along with Henri and I'll explain what the challenges are!" and with that got up and said "Now, you can go and be a man!" as he let himself out. Instantly, Henri leapt out of bed, raced to the wardrobe where he flung the first things that he found on and less than a minute later was running like never before to his digs in an effort to try and get them back in their correct positions as soon as was possible, if not quicker. *** "Ah, Monsieur Porthos, to what does my master...Monsieur...Monsieur, is everything all right?" As Henri dashed past Francois, his manservant of the last three years, he barged into his room and gasped at the sight in front of him. There he was, sleeping completely naked, something he never did at all, rubbing his gently enlarging weapon moaning "Oh, oui, mon chere, to feel this body again, it is magnifique!" and with that he started to breathe deeply. Henri knew precisely what was going to happen next and so shooing Francois away asking him to "get an extra loaf of bread, I believe your master will need it" knelt down next to the quivering mass that was him. "Porthos, Porthos, wake up, mon chere!" whispered Henri but it was no good Porthos was too far gone. "Oui, Oui, Hercules, I hear you and wish to wrestle you" at which point he grabbed hold of Henri and threw him on top of him, then grabbing hold of his sides he started to force his weapon towards Henri's mouth, all the while Henri desperately trying to wake him up. Realising there was no option, Henri raised his hand and with a whispered "Forgive me, mon chere" delivered a slap across the face that was said to be so loud that every single husband in Paris instantly confessed their indiscretions to their loved ones. But it had the desired effect as Porthos opened his eyes and gasped in amazement at the sight before him and lowering his body to the ground listened as Henri babbled his explanation panting at the end of it. "Oh, Henri" replied Porthos, hugging his lover, "thank you, thank you for making my dream come true. I am some twenty five years your senior but when I was your age I wasn't anything like as strong as you are, now, I shall be able to make you even more powerful than me" and with that grabbed hold of his body's arm and giving it a squeeze moaned "Twenty six inches, mon chere, compared to your twenty two, imagine, imagine how much bigger you will become!" "If I survive that long!" replied Henri and explained about the Duke, as he did Porthos's eyes opened wide and he roared "I AM THE STRONGEST MAN AND NONE SHALL CHALLENGE ME!" and instantly reached for the amulet and rock and placing them both on him and Henri declared "Amulet, release us from your power" but nothing happened. Gesturing to Henri who added "Ganymede, mon amis, we need to be ourselves again" still nothing happened and the two lovers realised their dilemma. "Then, if the gods will it" said Henri, "I must defend your honour, mon chere, if you are as strong as you say you are, then this Duke will be no challenge" "But, Henri" replied Porthos, his voice quivering, "you do not know what the Duke is capable of" and recounted a tale he had heard of the Duke throwing a five hundred pound rock the length of his courtyard to which Henri replied "That doesn't sound difficult" before Porthos added that he had done that after running the length of his kingdom, some twenty six miles, in less than four hours and all without any food for the previous day. Henri's eyes widened as he realised the challenge he now faced but stood next to Porthos, unsheathed his sword, raised it high and declared "ONE FOR ALL, MON CHERE!" to which Porthos replied standing next to his lover and holding the sword, "AND ALL FOR ONE, MON CHERE!" and agreed to meet with the Captain that afternoon to formally accept the challenge. *** "Gentlemen" announced the Captain as Henri and Porthos stood to attention in front of the Captain's desk, "the Duke of Bavaria claims to be one of the strongest men in the world, I find this claim debatable at best, but his belief that his claim is valid has to be taken. He has given me a list of the feats of strength that he wishes you to be tested on, Porthos, and that Henri will judge upon, however, I have been told I cannot tell you that list unless both of you accept. Gentlemen, do you?" "AYE" both men announced "The first task will be to carry four objects from one end of the courtyard to the other, one after the other, with the winner being the person who does it the fastest, the second task will be hold two bags of rocks equal to one and half times the weight of the person holding it for as long as possible, the next task is to haul a wagon containing up to four people of your own choice ten times the length of the courtyard running to each end in-between, that will then be followed by holding two anvils off the ground against each other, the person who drops theirs first being deemed the loser" As Henri looked at Porthos with concern, he was pleased to hear the Captain say "After that test, there will be a pause for lunch which in itself will be a test, whoever can devour a full roast pig the fastest will gain an advantage in the next test. That test will be a test of both strength and power as you will have to swim from here to Notre Dame which is then followed by a run carrying the heaviest horse that we have on your backs. That is then followed by lifting an anvil as many times as you can and finally pulling yourselves up and down as many times as you can from the window of my office" "Sir" said Henri, raising a hand, "I make that eight tasks, what happens if I win four and he wins four!" "Then there will be a final challenge, a tug of war between the two of you, whoever pulls the other will be declared the winner!" As both Henri and Porthos looked at each other, Porthos could see the first signs of concern written on Henri's face but as he stepped forward he declared "I realise that I will have to be independent from now on, but wish permission to say something to the Titan" and as the Captain nodded he turned to his former body, placed his hands on his broad shoulders and said "Porthos, you have always been a true paragon of strength to me, I have complete confidence in you and want to know that even when I am being completely independent, this will still be supporting you" and with that he placed his hand on his chest to indicate his heart. Henri smiled in return and said "Thank you, mon amis, that means a lot coming from you" and with that announced in a loud voice "The Titan is really to face all challenges for the honour of His Majesty!"

Superman's Gift Tagline: A young man's life is forever changed when the Man of Steel gives him his powerful spandex underwear. Author note: this one is a quickie. I do not know the Superman lore very well, but I think it is a fun universe to explore, and I wanted to try something lighter after writing my really dark Superman story a few years ago. This is part 1 of a 2 part, I think. Let me know what you think I really appreciate the community's feedback. I packed my bags and got on the bus leaving Smallville forever. I was finally getting my first job as an assistant editor at the Daily Planet, having just graduated from junior college. Smallville was full of bullies and small-minded jerks, I was tired of them giving me crap for my small frame and I was tired of being the little guy who was always picked on. But now, I was heading to the big city to live a new life, one where I could start a new identity, get new friends and maybe, finally, find some respect. We were only about 50 minutes outside of the city, a good few hours until we got to Metropolis, when we heard a loud THUD on the side of the bus. "Woah!" we all shouted, as the bus tilted back and forth. "HAHA!" a menacing voice came from outside the bus as it literally pulled it to a screeching halt. The voice echoed around us as the entire bus was literally lifted and shook back and forth, rising 40, 50 almost 100 feet off the ground. "Oh Superman?!" the voice beckoned< "where are you?" I looked out the window to find a huge monstrosity of a being cackling with glee as he took sheer joy in torturing us. It was Doomsday! I had seen him only once before. The brute was massive. "Oh superman, where are you?" he said, shaking us, "I have a group of victims for you to rescue." He had tried to kidnap a bus full of people once before, Superman was able to defeat him, but I remember reading the Planet article said that Doomsday became immune to Superman's heat vision. How was he going to defeat Doomsday now, I thought, if he even knew of our peril. I could hear a whirl noise around us, the Man of Steel did hear us! He was flying around us and Doomsday, trying to taunt him, to get him to drop the bus. "HA!" Doomsday shouted and dropped the bus with all of us in it. I thought for sure we would be smashed upon impact, but Superman caught us and quickly set us down. Superman was always my hero, he was everyone's! He was the man I always wished I'd be every time I was picked on, and despite fearing for my life, I thought it so cool that I could finally see him with my own eyes, in action! The two of them started fighting, I could see it out the window. Superman, probably only 1/4 the size of Doomsday was using brute physical force to shove the monster further into the forest and away from the street. The bus driver tried to pull away but couldn't. "Let's get out of here!" he shouted, realizing the bus had completely broken down. We all fled, running in different directions, trying to avoid wherever the superbeings were and get to safety. I kept running further and further south but realized I was all alone after a few minutes. I could hear punching and screeching getting closer and closer to my proximity, and decided to hide under a fallen tree. I couldn't believe it when the superbeings knocked each other, flying, right into the ground less than 20 feet away from me, shattering the surface and creating a crater that stretched to my feet. Doomsday had the upper hand, after laying some successive blows into Superman, he picked him up with his fist and licked him with a long, disgusting, reptilian-like tongue. "AARGH!" Superman shouted, the saliva from Doomsday turning his cheek. "Mmm, tastes good," the low, grumbly voice shouted in glee. "And now, to take all of your powers," Doomsday continued," I finally created a toxin made from black kryptonite that will extract your powers and feed them to me! HAHA" the being laugh manically. "I used the bus of kidnapped humans to lure, and now...I have you!" Doomsday started breathing heavily, taking long, slow breaths I assumed to ready his poison. "No, Superman!" I thought to myself, "you have to come through," I could tell the Man of Steel was growing weaker and weaker, but he was fumbling in his side pouch near his underwear, a little container of something that he had. I saw him open it. It was green kryptonite and as soon as he released it a green puff of smoke emerged, knocking both of the superheroes out, "GARGH!" they both shouted, as the both lost the force of Doomsday's grip. They flew backwards, most of the kryptonite landing on Doomsday and causing him to thrash about, flying him against a tree and slumping down to the forest ground. Superman flew in the other direction, landing in a small brush and topping onto his stomach. He appeared badly hurt. Lifting my head higher, slowly gaining more confidence to see the scene, waited for the two superheroes to see if either would move. When they did not, I quietly, but quickly rushed to my hero's side. Bad boils started to form on Superman's skin, they were turning red then burning to a char-like color. "Superman!" I whispered, "You need help! What can I do to help you?" Superman turned to me with his weak eyes. "You," he said, "you must complete what I have failed." "what are you talking about?" I answered, "You have to get up before Doomsday awakens." "I cannot," he said, barely able to utter a word. "The kryptonite will turn Doomsday back into his human form for a short while, while he recharges his powers, then he will take over his true form once more and steal my powers from me. He already has drained me. You cannot let him take my powers." I felt terrible for Superman, but couldn't believe that he was going to ask me for help. "What can I do?" I asked. "Anything." "The end is coming for me," he whispered, the burns now completely covering his face, burning off his hair and shredding his superhero outfit. "The poison is destroying me, Ohhf..." "Quickly, son," he said, "take my spandex loin, and wear it. They are going to contain all of my powers, you must inherit them and use them to defeat Doomsday!" My hands started shaking with fear. "No, wait, what? I'm not cut out to be a superhero!" I said. "But you must," he said, "for I am...no...more..." Superman gagged and his skin deflated, his entire massive body flatting and curling into his suit. His suit in turn started to dissolve, all of it folding and melting into a red and blue goo that soaked into the underwear, leaving only the one piece of cloth on the ground. "Holy shit!" I whispered to myself. I paused for a brief moment then grabbed the briefs. I turned around to see the grey, rock-like monster Doomsday start to lose his own size. The brute started shrinking from his 15 foot frame down to 10 then 6 as his muscle mass flattened out to something much more human-like. He was transforming back into a human form! As the grey bulky mass dissolved, a bulked and young looking, tanned skin emerged, and he became someone I had seen before, but I wasn't sure his name. The rock body soaked into the skin leaving a naked, but still well-bulked, young guy probably around my age. I had seen him at a hospital before, I thought, but didn't know his name. I backed away quickly, the creature would surely awaken soon. I ducked behind some bushes and stared at him only for a moment before the naked man opened his eyes, a red, evil glow emerging from them. "Oh Superman," the man beckoned, his masculine voice not all that different from when he was in his superpowered state, "where did you go?" I slowly backed away as the naked man stood, walking with total confidence toward the burnt indentation where Superman's body once lay. His uncut dick rocked back and forth, its girth knocking between his thighs. The man had no qualms about his total nudity, he was completely comfortable with himself. He bent at the knees and I gulped as I watched his bulk ass stretch inward as his thigh muscles tightened. The thin, black covering of hair on his legs moved over the sides of his butt cheeks with total masculine effect. I was both intimidated and entrenched by him. Even the bullies who used to kick me to the ground in the showers weren't as big as this guy. There was no way I would be able to evade this guy for long. I looked in my hands at the lycra underwear that Superman left for me. I knew that they were more than just a covering for one's loins. These things must have had Superman's power wrapped into him. What if I put them on? Would I, become him? Could it be possible? "Where did you go!" Doomsday shouted as he stood once more. He took a deep breath through his nose, smelling for something suspicious. Smelling for....me. "My senses might not be as strong as a human, but I know something is afoot!" he shouted as he looked around. I knew I had no choice. I had to either put on the suit, or risk having the super being overpower me and take the suit for himself. If Doomsday gained all of Superman's powers, he would surely see the end of me right then and there. I quietly stepped out of my shoes and pulled off my socks. I had no time to think. No time to be scared for what would become of me. It was now or never. I pulled off my shirt and slowly took steps away from Doomsday as he started to identify where I could be. "Who else is here?" He asked with a smirk on his face. "Could this be a challenge? Could I met a match in my quest for Superman's powers?" He started walking toward me with a faster step,. I had no time. I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, but the "zipp" sound immediately turned him to me. We met eye to eye. And he knew what I was up to. "Oh I don't think so, you human!" He shouted as his pace quickened. "That suit is mine, little man, and when I get it, I will see the end of you!" "Ahh!" I shouted, sounding like a little wimp, watching his eyes looking to me with utter evil and pleasure in destroying me. Doomsday couldn't use his powers while in human form, I could see that, but it wouldn't be long before he had recovered and would be back into his super evil being, and anyway his human strength and agility would easily power over me. I had to get the suit on if I wanted to live at all. I dropped my jeans and now, only in my boxers, I ran, I ran as fast as I could, I hurdled over fallen trees and bushes, I jumped over a stream and bed of rocks. I moved faster than I ever had in my life. I had to hurry, I could hear the steps behind me running with ferocious energy. I pulled down my boxers and left them behind me, getting completely naked. I had no time to waste, no time to think for a moment, and certainly no time to be embarrassed by my skinny frame and nude figure. I unfurled the lycra but kept running. They were small but still fit Superman's massive frame inside it, they would surely fit mine. I slowed down for only a moment to slip my left foot through it, before picking back up the pace. I immediately felt my running ability hasten as I gained more stamina. The underwear was pushing some kind of strength into me, even if it wasn't all of the Man of Steel's powers. I gained just enough distance from Doomsday to fully stop and step my right leg through. I had no time to think. I started pulling the suit up my legs, feeling ever increasing amounts of strength and stamina fill my legs when Doomsday finally caught up with me. But he was too late. I wrapped the suit over my skinny butt and pulled the suit up over my crotch and onto my waste as fast as I ever could. The second the lycra "snapped" over my waste, Doomsday turned me around by force. But within that same split second, the suit started pouring power into me, up through my butt and pecker, into my balls and out through my body. I could feel it, the powers of the man of steel, and at that very moment all of my humanly desires and mortal wants flew aside, I was becoming Superman, I was becoming immortal. Doomsday grabbed the suit at my crotch but the suit, now my own, now fully claimed by me, sparked a red and blue shock of electricity on his hand, scarring it. "SHIT!" the monster shouted, backing his naked body away from me. "Oh no!" he said, "NO NO NOOOO!" "YES!" I Shouted in reply, "watch me, Doomsday, watch me claim what is now rightfully Mine!! ARRRRGH!'" As Superman's confidence pulled itself out of the suit and into me, so too did his powers. My back uncontrollably stretched and bent itself as I felt the suit's power pour out from my loins and into my body, my back and abs gaining muscle and girth, pushing themselves outward and defining a deep, crevice 8-pack as my Adonis cut a deep V pointing down toward my crotch. Doomsday stared as he saw my pecs flatten and bulk outward, doubling the size of his as hair emerged from over the suit and up my abs and onto my chest. My shoulders broadened as my arms bulked outward, biceps doubling then tripling their size both upward and outward, veins stretching under my skin and elongating my forearms and hands. My legs too exploded into footballs, growing outward and lengthening my frame from 6 to 6.5 feet, hair growing downward over my body. My cock started pushing itself against the lycra, and as it increased size, the power of the suit poured more into it, my sausage curving over my balls as they become completely discernible underneath the cloth. I rubbed it and felt an immediate explosion of orgasm, way better than I ever had as a mortal. "Fuck yea!" I told myself, growing ever more confident in my form as more hair emerged under my arm pits and on my face, creating a shadow over my face. "Watch Doomsday, for it will surely be your last time as a free man! HAHAH!" I said, my body lifting itself as I gained the power of flight. I could feel all of Superman's powers as well as some of Doomsday's powers from his black kryptonite toxin leaking into my own body, I had trouble making sense of how to use them for I knew nothing of super powers before, but the orgasmic feeling of gaining them was so intoxicating that I wished for nothing else. I didn't want it to end. "MORE! MOOOORRRREE!" I shouted as I exploded with Superman's powers. "Superman, I will completely your mission, as soon as I deal with this mutant!" I swore to him, and as I did, the lycra from the suit spread outward from the underwear, moving down my legs, and up over my bulked torso and abs, reforming a new Superman uniform over me. Growing a cap out behind me as I levitated above Doomsday. The transformation complete, I quickly flew around the sky before returning to Doomsday. I Kicked him to turn him around but saw him cackling. "You think this is it? Just because you're the new Superman?!" He shouted. He flew up from the ground in one jump, the naked man returning to his feet. I flew down to the ground and set my feet next to his, shoving him backwards. "You know not of what I am capable of!" He shouted, his body bulking up once more as a grey rock-like form returned to him once more. He was returning to his super form! "You want a fight?" He asked, bulking to twice the size of my own new super form. "Come and get it!" To be continued.

You don’t really answer right away. That thing about promising to do whatever they ask bothers you. But the waitress buys you a little time when she starts bringing plate after plate after plate of food for Mitch. “Those trials you were talking about?” you ask. “Yeah,” says Mitch. You figure you better get your questions in before he starts eating. “How long do they last?” you ask. “That depends entirely on you,” says Mitch. “Some guys get through them in just a few days. I took a few weeks. But I heard of one guy who took over a year! Seriously, I don’t know how anyone could stand that for a year!” “That bad?” “They are not fun,” says Mitch. “You will not enjoy them.” “When do they stop?” you ask. “They stop when you’re ready,” said Mitch. “When’s that?” you ask. “You’ll know,” Mitch says. “Sorry, that’s all I can tell you.” You take another look at Mitch’s amazing physique, his giant sculpted muscles and his bulging veins and you decide to go for it. After all, if Mitch could get through it, so can you. “I’m in,” you say. “You’re sure?” Mitch asks. “Remember, no turning back.” “Where do I sign,” you say. “A hand shake will do,” says Mitch. “It’s a bond of honor that will hold you, whether you want it to or not.” “I want it to,” you say. “Okay,” says Mitch and the two of you shake. “While I’m your mentor, I can’t be your friend,” says Mitch. “Why not?” you say, alarmed. “Because I’m going to have to be tough on you and do things a friend would never do.” “That sounds ominous,” you say. “But don’t worry about that now,” says Mitch. “Let’s go over to your place and have one last night of gaming. Then, tomorrow, meet me in the Downtown Fitness Center locker room at 6:30 am and we’ll get started.” “Sounds good,” you say and you sit there and watch Mitch devour a ridiculously large meal while you nibble on your cheese burger and fries and try to contain your excitement for tomorrow. That evening is awesome! It’s just like last summer all over again, except for Mitch’s humongous physique, which you can’t stop staring at. But Mitch doesn’t seem to mind. The next morning, you get up bright and early, pack your gym bag and head for the Downtown Fitness Center. You get there 10 minutes early. You figure its just enough time to change into your gym gear. Mitch shows up at 6:30 on the dot, but he’s dressed in his jeans, which his massive muscle pylon legs are stretching to their limit. “It’s 6:30 and you’re not ready,” you say, grinning. “We’re not here to work out,” says Mitch. “We’re not?” you say. “I hope you don’t hate me,” said Mitch. “Hate you?” you say. “It’s been bothering me,” says Mitch. “I hated my mentor, right up until my initiation. Now, I’m grateful to the guy. We’re good friends. And the thing is, I think he went easy on me a few times. I think if he hadn’t, I’d have gotten through the trials a lot quicker. “So, I’m not going easy on you, Jared. I’m going to be just as tough as I can be. And, well… I hope you don’t hate me.” “I don’t think I’m gong to hate you,” you say. “That’s what you say now,” says Mitch. “Come over here for a minute.” Mitch leads you to a spot just around the corner from the sinks. There’s one guy in there and he’s pretty big. “You see that guy?” says Mitch. “His name is John Stanton and he’s a total douche. He has a hot girlfriend called Sarah Gibbons who he is insanely possessive of…” Suddenly Mitch starts shouting. “And you wanna fuck her?! You wanna fuck Sarah Gibbons? Dude, she is so hot! And you think she looks like a total slut? You’re shittin me? Dude, I gotta hear all about this. I’ll be right back.” “What are you doing?” you say, genuinely alarmed. That John Stanton dude does not look amused and he is heading right toward you. “This is a joke, right? That guy is a friend of yours, maybe another member of the cult, right?” “Hold that thought,” says Mitch, “and stay here. I’ll be right back.” And Mitch leaves the locker room with amazing speed for someone so big. What the…? Where’s he going and at a time like this? “Hey Asshole!” comes a thundering voice from behind you. You turn around only to be confronted with a pissed off John Stanton, and… he’s even bigger up close. “John, right?” you say, offering your hand, but he does not stop mad dogging you for second. “Jerad,” you introduce yourself. I think there’s been a little misunders—” “You’re taking shit about my girl!” And with the first punch that hits you, you realize that this guy is not Mitch’s friend. And with the second, you start to wonder if you’re Mitch’s friend. And with the third… well, you stop counting with the third. When he’s done, John Stanton grabs his gear and storms out of the room. And then you look up, and, almost like magic, Mitch is back. “Welcome to the trials, Jerad,” he says. “I told you you wouldn’t like them.” “If that isn’t the understatement of the century!” you say. “What the fuck was that in aid of?” Mitch just shrugs and says, “The trials.” “What does that mean?” you say. “It means I can’t give you answers,” says Mitch. “Okay, International Man of Mystery, after due consideration, I don’t think this trial-thing is gonna be for me,” you say. “Too late, bro,” says Mitch. “You’re committed. I’m your mentor and you can walk away from me, but you can’t walk away from the trials. They will find you, now, wherever you are. Trust me, it’s better with a guide.” So, what do you do? Mitch says you can’t walk away from the trials, but you’re willing to give it a try. Do you tell Mitch what he can go do with himself? Or do you accept that what Mitch is telling you is true, that you’re stuck with these trial-things and that you’re better off with him than without him?

“Of course, I want to get jacked like you. Are you kidding me? Look at those muscles, huge, iron, sculpted masses! They’re fucking awesome! And dude, 20 minutes ago, you lifted my car, my freaking car! Who wouldn’t want to be that fucking yoked, that fucking powerful? So, how’d you do it?” “Well,” Mitch said, grinning down at me, and giving those massive, juggernaut arms a little extra flex, “It all started last fall during the first week of school. All these organizations had tables set up outside on the quad to recruit new members. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to join anything, but I was bored, so, I thought I’d just look around. Just about every organization you ever heard of was there, everything from the Young Republicans to Greenpeace. “I didn’t see anything that made me want to rush over and sign up. But then in the far corner, just past the Flat Earth Society, I saw this table with these two huge dudes manning it. I mean they were way taller than anyone else there and their muscles were giant, chiseled boulders. I’d never seen anyone like them in real life. They looked a little intimidating so I wasn’t surprised no one was talking to them. But I felt… I don’t know… compelled to go over there. “They were representing an organization called the Cult of the Muscle Gods. And looking at them, well, I thought they looked like muscle gods themselves. And as I walked up, the looks they gave me, it was like they were trying to scare me away. But I went over anyway. “So, are you like a fitness club, or something?” I asked. “No,” the huge dude answered, “We are an organization dedicated to eliminating the plague of weak and puny men, like you.”” I almost waked away after that crack, but something kept me there; I couldn’t say exactly what. “You want to kill us?” I said. “No,” he laughed, “we want to cure you.” “Cure me?” I parroted. “Sure,” he said. “Rob and I used to be about your size, didn’t we Rob?” Rob nodded once, never breaking that intimidating scowl. “Then we found the muscle gods,” he continued “They helped us evolve into our true selves. And they can do the same for you.” He definitely had my interest. I mean, I’d always felt like I could be bigger, and these guys, well they were just massive. By this point, I had pretty much made up my mind that they were some kind of extreme bodybulding club. And even though I’d never gone in for anything like that before, I found myself signing up for their group. But before I did, they gave me a warning. It would be my only chance to sign up for the cult, and once I did, they would not allow me to back out of it. “Forced to get bigger,” I remember thinking. “That might be exactly what it would take for me to actually do it.” So, I signed. Then came the initiation trials. They were tough, a lot tougher than I could have ever imagined. I began to realize that these guys were dead serious about this shit and I wondered if maybe I hadn’t leaped before I looked. I don’t mind telling you there were days that if I could have backed out, I would have. But I got through it. Then, blindfolded, they took me to their main temple. They made me dress in this ceremonial robe, and it was at this point that it finally sank in: these guys were more than just an extreme bodybuilding club. Again, I got that feeling that I might be in over my head. They escorted me to the center of their temple and then the high priest came out. Holy crap! This was the biggest human being I’d ever seen-- or even heard of! He was well over 7 feet tall and all massive, sculpted muscle. I estimated one of his muscle pylon legs outweighed my entire body. He made me repeat some oaths about dedicating myself to getting bigger as well as to their core mission of bringing muscle and power to all men everywhere. He welcomed me into their brotherhood and suddenly I just started growing. It was the most intense sensation I’d ever experienced. My body was suddenly getting hard all over, swelling up, with iron-like, chiseled muscle. I felt my abs bulge into steely mounds, my shoulders expand into rocks, and my back widen into thick plates of rippling sinew. My biceps grew into, big, sculpted masses. I felt them straining against and then ripping right through the sleeves of that ceremonial robe, while my expanding pecs ripped right through the front. When it was done, I was probably about 2 inches taller and I’d put on about 30 pounds, all of it raw unadulterated muscle! I felt big and powerful, sensations I’d never experienced before, and I liked it. The ceremonial robe was in tatters and none of the clothes I had arrived in would fit me anymore. But they were prepared. They had clothes for me, just the right size. “Didn’t anyone noticed you’d gotten bigger,” I asked. “Not really,” said Mitch. “Well… my roommate kind of freaked, but that’s another story. “So are you ready,” he continued. “Do you want to commit to the cult, to getting bigger? Remember, once you do, there’s no turning back.” “What about those initiation trials you talked about?” I asked. “What were they?” “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “You mean I have to commit to these things without knowing what they are?” I asked. “Yup,” he said. “It’s the only way. Do you want to commit?” So, do you commit to doing what ever they ask you to, even before knowing what it is?

You’re really happy to see your friend… but what the fuck happened to him? He’s huge! He’s mammoth! He has to be about a foot taller and he’s bulging out all over with sculpted, rippling muscle, way more than he should have been able to put on in the 9 months since you last saw him. You have to know what happened. There’s a little beach front diner across the causeway and you suggest you guys go there to grab a bite and catch up. “I don’t do just “bites” anymore,” said Mitch. “But it’s just about time for my next meal, so I’m down.” Mitch got dropped off at the beach, but you have your car. So, you bundle all his beach stuff in the back. The diner has a no shirt, no shoes, no service policy, but you have a t-shirt and flip flops. Mitch has flip flops, but what he puts on as a shirt, you’re not sure qualifies. Obviously designed to showcase his ridiculous physique, the neck line of this thing drops all the way past his huge, striated pecs to the top row of his bulging abs. To say it had no sleeves would be an understatement. This thing had no sides. Not only were his massive, veiny arms and segmented shoulders fully exposed, but his broad back was displayed as well, protruding out the open sides. You mention your doubts to Mitch, but he just says, “Trust me, bro, no one is going to call me on it. Would you?” Looking at you friends huge sculpted, veiny arms, you decide you probably wouldn’t. But the change in Mitch’s attitude was startling. He had this kind of “I’ll go where I want to go and do what I want to do” arrogance about him. He never had that before. You get into the car, which seems to be a little bit of a squeeze for Mitch. You are amazed at how much of the front he takes up. As you’re driving across the causeway, you feel the unmistakable bumping of your tire going flat. You get out and open the trunk for the spare and suddenly remember you lost your jack last fall. Mitch just shrugs and tells you to go ahead and loosen the lug nuts. You protest you don’t have a jack, but he just says, “Don’t worry about it. I got you covered.” You loosen the lug nuts and as soon as you do, there’s a jerk and the rear of your car starts to rise up off the ground. Holy crap! Mitch is lifting the rear of your car. You could see he had huge, chiseled muscles now but how strong was he? You sit there, staring dumbfounded for a minute, before Mitch says, “Are you going to change the tire, or what? I mean I could probably hold this all day, but I’m getting kind of hungry.” Pulling yourself back to the here and now, you continue changing the tire. When you’re done, Mitch sets the car down and you tighten the lug nuts. You try and think of something to say, but you can’t and you’re just quiet all the way to the diner. Of course, as soon as you walk in the door, it’s pandemonium. The server takes one look at Mitch and drops the tray she’s carrying. A wide-eyed little kid, waiting for a table with his mother, can’t stop staring at him. And he’s not alone. All across the diner, heads are turning to stare at Mitch. And he just seems to be loving every second of it. The flustered red-faced server seats you right away, even though there were people waiting before you. You sit there dumbfounded as Mitch orders basically half the menu. The server turns around to leave without taking your order. You stop her and order your much more conservative lunch. And when she finally leaves, you ask Mitch the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw him on the beach. “So, what happened to you, bro? How’d you get so big? And I don’t mean just jacked; you’re like a foot taller, too!” “I know,” said Mitch, grinning and flexing one of his massive biceps, which you guess is easily 5 times the size of yours. “Best thing I ever did,” he said. “My life is so much better now than last summer, when I was weak and puny like you.” “What did you say?” you say, not liking Mitch’s attitude one bit. “Don’t get your Jockeys in a twist, bro,” said Mitch. “Just about everybody’s weak and puny next to me. That’s half the fun.” “But how…?” you ask. “I could tell you,” said Mitch, “but first you have to answer one question for me.” “What?” you say. “Why are you asking?” said Mitch. “Is it just curiosity, the mystery of it? Or are you interested in starting down the same path? Be certain you mean what you say, because, once I answer, there’ll be no going back. And you can’t ask me this question ever again. I’ll only answer this once. So, why are you asking?”

Continued from: Not really sure about what you're doing, you reach down and gently nudge the big dude on his huge, hard shoulder . His eyes fly open and before you can blink, he leaps up off the lounger and grabs you by your shoulder with an iron grip. Then, just as if you weighed nothing at all, he lifts you up off the ground by your shoulder and glares up at you. You struggle against him, but are completely powerless against, the incredible strength of that hugely muscled body. "Who the fuck do you think you're poking, little man!" he shouts. Then suddenly recognition breaks out on his face like the sun through a stormy sky. "Jared? Holy shit, dude! How the hell are you?" Suddenly, he pulls you into a bone crushing hug. You can feel his massive iron-hard arms digging into your back, while you're being slammed up against a torso that feels like it's made from rocks piled on top of each other. You're happy to see your friend, but at the same time confused about the changes in him. ...and there's a little pain involved, too. Finally, just when you think you ribs are going to start cracking, he sets you back down on the beach. What do you do now? Do you invite him back to your place to play video games and do your best not to mention that Mitch has somehow metamorphosed into a hugely muscled behemoth, and try to still have the summer you've been looking forward to? Do you suggest the two of you grab something to eat and then pump him for information on how he got so huge during the last 9 months? Or is this all too much for you. Do you need to go home for some alone time so you can process the startling change in your friend and figure out how you're going to deal with it?

You guys wanna try something? I have no idea how this going to turn out, but let's see what happens. Read the story snippet below and they chose what you think Jared, the main character, should do. Or feel free to propose your own option in the comments. Okay, here goes. About a year ago, you graduated from high school with your best friend, Mitch. You then had the best summer of your life, hanging with Mitch, playing video games, eating junk food, and endlessly discussing who was going to die in the next Avengers movie. You voted for Captain America. Mitch was positive it would be Thor. But like all things, last summer eventually came to an end. You both headed off to different schools in different parts of the country. Both of your school schedules proved a lot busier than you expected and you didn't have the time to talk, text, or skype that you thought you would. And a bad snow storm and a couple of missed flights meant you missed each other over the holidays too. But summer is back and you just got home. You realize Mitch must be back too. You try and call him but he doesn't pick up nor does he answer your texts. You decide to stop over and see him, but his brother tells you he's not there. He's gone down to the beach. "The beach?" you think. "That's weird. Mitch never goes to the beach." But you decide to grab your swimming trunks, go down there and find him. "The beach isn't that big," you think. "Should be pretty easy to track him down." But when you get there, you comb the whole place and you don't really see him. But just as you're getting ready to leave, you notice this massive guy asleep on his beach lounger. You do a double take. The face looks a lot like Mitch's, but the body... This dude is huge and yoked beyond belief. It couldn't possibly be Mitch... Or could it? It really did look like his face. What do you do? Do you wake him up to see if he's Mitch? Or do you go home and try calling your friend tomorrow? Vote on the poll page and we'll see where we go. Higher resolution versions of the images can be found here:

My Celtic Cross Tarot Reading I was walking around a Renaissance Faire one Sunday. I barely get any time off, and it seemed like a fun way to spend a day off. At least it would get my mind off of life. I reached a little tent as I walked down a trail, seemingly away from all of the festivities. It didn't even seem like it was part of the faire. Maybe one of the actors lived on site. I called hello a couple of times as I approached, with no response. I just wanted a quick peak inside before heading back. I got close and gently lifted the tent flap. You could hear a pin drop, I was being so quiet and not even breathing. Inside seemed dark, so I got closer. I could barely make out that a table was in there, but not much else. Still holding my breath, I got my head all of the way in, and then I heard the flap close behind me. In shock, I spun around. I was fully inside of the tent and it was lit by many candles. Turning back around, I saw a round table in the center of the room with various cabinets and supplies placed around the exterior. There was an incense stick giving off little wafts of smoke in the middle of the table. There was movement from the back room. Wait, there was a second part to the tent? Wait, wasn't this tent a lot smaller on the outside? Wait, how did I actually enter the tent? "How can Madame Tempest help you today?" A lady in a gypsy looking costume entered the room from the back. I must have looked completely dumbfounded. "Yes, yes. You are in my home, but nobody enters Madame Tempest's home without reason. I can sense that you are confused. But your confusion is not about why you are here. You are confused about your place in life. You are confused about your direction. Come, come. Sit at my table with me." She approached the round table and sat down, gesturing for me to do the same. I did so. "Let me see your hands." I placed my hands on the table. She took the left one and turned it over on to her own. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then, she went to my right hand and started tracing the lines in the palm. "Ah, I see now. Your life is not how it should be. You have great strength inside of you, but it does not come through. Others see you as weak and you have begun to agree. Madame Tempest thinks otherwise. Here, let me show you." She clapped her hands together and a deck of cards was in her left palm. None of this made sense, but I was just going with it. "Now, I will take reading. You must shuffle the cards and let your will infuse into them." She spread them out on to the table. "Now really make sure that the cards are mixed. They do not have a correct orientation. Right side up and up side down and both just as necessary to the reading." I mixed them up like I had seen poker dealers do before a game. I then pushed the cards together back into a deck. "Do you want to cut the cards?" I shock my head no. She nodded in approval and grabbed the deck. "This is called a Celtic Cross." She deal one face down and another perpendicular on top of it. She then dealt down, left, up and to the right of the original two cards. "These all represent your past, present and future. This will reveal a challenge you are facing with some reason drawn from your past." She then dealt four more cards in a line to the right side. "These cards will give you some insight into the challenge and what might affect it. Finally we will see what the outcome will be." I gestured at the cards for her to continue. She slid the first face down card out and placed it in front of me. "Present - Temperance in reverse... Not the best start to a reading. It indicates that you are currently being pulled in the extremes. Your life has lost its balance. Things may seem turbulent right now, but it may not be that way forever." She grins devilishly. "Obviously it will not stay turbulent into your future cards since we already drew temperance here." I nodded. She wasn't wrong. It is kind of strange though. I really do feel like my life is all over the place. Am I focusing on the right thing? Am I living my life the way I should be? The perpendicular card was then turned. "Immediate Challenge - The Magician... Since this card was on its side, there is no reverse. Your main goal will be yours for the taking. Make sure to take initiative and you will accomplish it. This is a very nice card to have as your challenge. Things seems messed up right now. But your challenge is to grab life by the horns and do what is best for you. If you accomplish that, you will have what you desire." That was weird. What is my main goal? "Distant Past - Justice in reverse. Your distant past has been plagued with other people affecting your life. You feel like your own decisions and actions have no meaning because you are constantly faced with other peoples consequences. This is probably what lead to you feeling the turbulence surrounding your life. It would certainly lead to temperance in reverse as your present card. Do not fret, as your own goals are now opening to you." She tapped on the Magician card. I really never have had control over my life. Why do I lend myself to others' whims all of the time. Being easy going is a curse. I watched as she flipped the next card. The devil??? Man, this keeps getting worse. "Recent Past, the cause for getting to this point - The Devil sounds like it is a bad card. However, it does not mean that Satan has been controlling you or some evil presence is here. All this means is that your main goal is being driven by you base desires, your animal instincts. You are not controlled by these instincts, instead you desire to follow them where they will lead you." I actually responded for the first time, "I do desire to have freedom. So my desire to be free and my past of having no control over my life is causing great conflict. That makes sense. But what is this goal that is supposed to bring my life into balance? Wouldn't getting balance be a goal?" She nodded thoughtfully. "I cannot claim to know what your base desires are. However, this next card may help you figure that out. This location on the Celtic Cross is the best outcome to the challenge. You got The Tower, reversed... The tower itself represents catastrophe and rebuilding, which would make sense for your situation. As in, everything falls apart from the turmoil but you can rebuild from that. Though, in reverse is has a different meaning. Through your challenge in obtaining your goal, you will be built up instead of falling apart. The best outcome will be that you come out stronger than you were before." I shrugged in acceptance. It still did not answer the question about my goal. But at least it does indicate that things will get better. "In your immediate future, we have The Wheel of Fortune in reverse... In general, the wheel means that sometimes things will go well and sometimes badly. In the end, karma will balance out. In reverse, karma will not balance out and you will be faced with good and bad changes. I am sorry, I know that is not what you wanted to hear. But let's move on to the next card because it should explain things a little bit better. Factors affecting situation..." I nodded. This one would start to get into the nitty gritty. "The Emperor is what will be affecting the challenge. The Emperor is a symbol of masculinity, authority and power. This means that someone in authority will have a big influence on your challenge. Perhaps a boss or a parent will help your reach your goals. Pay close attention to what those around you are saying. There may be an opening where they will no longer control your life and instead give you the reins." "Ah ok. Since the goal is unclear, I need to 'keep my enemies closer' as it were. They may be the ones causing turmoil, but they may also save me in the end." "Oh, there is a second card underneath. Strength in reverse. How odd. I never deal two cards in the same spot. But we mystics believe that when two cards are dealt, both have equal part in the story of your life. We are still on the factors affecting the situation. In reverse, strength refers to a weakened resolve. Your own inner strength will be low. This might be why you need to rely on the authority figure to help." I scoffed a little. These cards are basically telling me that I suck. Everyone else controls me. My own desires are squashed away. I am not even strong enough to accomplish my heart's desire - I need someone else to do it for me. "External influences - Wait, what? There are two cards here again. I believe these extra cards may have more meaning that we think. It is no coincidence that you have gotten two cards on both the factors affecting the outcome and the external influences outside of your control. This leads me to think there will be a duality to the situation. Outside authority versus your own will. Or in this case," she flipped both cards. "The Sun and The Moon. This is a very mixed message. This is a mixture of your fears and positivity, your dark impulses and upbeat attitude. It could also be a literal card definition - the factors influencing the situation would be the sun and the moon... Perhaps you need to focus on your sleep schedule. It might take some trial and error to find a better schedule than what you have right now." That actually made sense in a way. I have been wanting to go out to clubs more at night. Maybe I need to find a job with a later start time so that I could party late and sleep in afterwards. "Hopes and fears - Death in reverse. At least there is only one card this time." She noticed my eyes widen - I fear death? "Just like with the Devil card, this is not literal. In reverse it is more difficult to interpret, though. So your hopes would be that your journey will have convergence. You will not want things to keep changing. Your fear will be that you are at the end. Again, not at the end of your life. It would be that you are afraid you will not get a new beginning." I relaxed a little bit. That was somewhat comforting. Again, not liking the turmoil and change and want something more balanced. So my goal is to find balance in my life and someone above me will help. "Culmination/Final outcome - The World... This is literally the end of a journey. The journey will end in accomplishment and closure. Even though you face good and bad things," she indicated The Wheel of Fortune again, "the outcome will be the completion of the challenge." I smiled, "And all of it indicates that my challenge is to find balance in my life. That goal seems reachable." "Yes, I have full faith in you. Be weary of your surroundings. Start to move away from people that are controlling you and get closer to those (especially bosses) who want your life and work and anything else to be in harmony. Madame Tempest wishes you all the best in your journey. It seems like it will be exciting." I stood and gave her a little wave goodbye and turned around to leave the tent. I tripped on a stick, but managed to keep my balance. I wondered why there was a stick inside of the tent. I looked up towards Tempest to say something, but I was outside on the trail. When...? I stopped myself from asking any more questions and just quickly made my way back to the faire on the trail. The following day at work, I was not incredibly productive. That whole thing with the tent and the strange gypsy lady never left my mind. "My goal is to achieve balance. I need to distance myself from stress but keep some authority figured around for guidance." I was daydreaming and mumbling to myself. I glanced at the time and it was almost lunch. I shook myself out of it and groaned. I had nothing to show for my time so far. I needed to skip lunch and just focus on work. As the clock turned over to 12 noon, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I tried to cry out for help, but the agony prevented anything from escaping my lips. Tears were filling up in my eyes, and then it stopped. It felt like hours had passed, but the clock read 12:01. I just needed a quick walk and a drink of water to clear my head. The daydreaming must have been getting to me. The pain was completely gone, but I still had a lot of work to do. ============================ So do you think Madame Tempest was correct with her reading?

It's Cinco de Mayo time, so I'm re-posting a story I posted on this Forum several years ago. All of the participants are 18 years of age or older, and no sex is depicted. Enjoy! CINCO DE MAYO MUSCLE BY GLAMLEATHERPUNK A/K/A GLAMROCKCOWBOY (AUTHOR’S NOTE: In order to keep this story to a manageable length, I have kept the details about the history of Cinco de Mayo and its significance to the United States to the barest minimum. For more information on this subject, I invite the reader to consult Wikipedia, which has an excellent article giving full details. Enjoy!) It was Wednesday, May 3rd. 18-year-old Billy Masterson was busy at one of the terminals in the high school library, gathering information for a presentation he had been assigned to give to his speech class on Friday. He had just finished gathering the data he needed, and was working on the outline of his up-coming speech when he felt a massive but gentle hand on his shoulder. He paused and stretched for a moment, then looked up into the grinning, handsome face of his longtime best friend, Juan Ramirez. Juan and Billy had known each other since kindergarten. Their families owned neighboring horse ranches in a small town on the outskirts of Orange County, California. Juan’s sister, Rosita, who was now attending a private school, had been Billy’s girlfriend ever since the two had entered puberty. The two of them often double-dated with Juan and his long-time love, Ruby Johnson. Both youths were honor students, and champion cowboys besides. In addition, Juan had been into bodybuilding and powerlifting for a number of years, and he had a massive physique to prove it. Billy had tried going a similar route, but his body had utterly refused to respond. An examination by a sports medicine clinic had disclosed a high level of myostatin in Billy’s genetic makeup—so high, in fact, as to prevent his body from muscling up to any significant degree. As a result, despite the protests of the other cowboys, the rodeo team coach had arrogantly dismissed Billy from the team. The other cowboys had promptly withdrawn from the team in protest, and the coach had thereupon disbanded the rodeo program altogether. His arrogant remarks about Billy, his fellow cowhands, and the rodeo program had so incensed the parents involved that the coach had been transferred to another school, and had been fired soon afterward. The rodeo program had thereupon been reactivated at the parents’ insistence. Billy, however, had not been able to rejoin the team. An auto accident involving both of his parents, whose car had been rammed head-on by a drunk driver, followed by months of rehabilitation and therapy, had forced Billy to give up all after-school activities of any kind. Billy had taken on the role of the “man of the house,” taking care of his parents, and running the ranch as best he could. While his parents were now finally up and about again, Billy had been unable to avoid having to sell off most of the horses simply to keep the family afloat financially. One reason for this had been a continuing battle with the family’s insurance agent on a variety of issues regarding what was and was not covered under the family’s policy. As a result, his parents’ hospital bills had continued to mount, and the hospital’s collection agency was putting increasing pressure on the family despite their best efforts. As a result, although Billy had not mentioned it to anyone, he knew that, barring a miracle, his parents might well have to sell the ranch altogether, and even then, they might still be facing involuntary bankruptcy with-in a matter of months. “So whassup, amigo?” Juan inquired, as Billy rose and went over to retrieve a hard copy of the outline he had just completed. “Just working on my speech for this Friday,” Billy answered. “It’s a short history of Cinco de Mayo.” “Oh, kewl!” Juan gushed, his face lighting up even brighter. “That reminds me—my family and I will be having a HUGE Cinco de Mayo celebration at our place after school lets out on Friday. You’ll be there, won’t you? Rosie especially would love to see you!” Billy sighed sadly. Normally, he would not have hesitated to join in the festivities, especially since the Ramirez family had striven repeatedly to help the Mastersons in any way they could while Billy’s parents recovered from their injuries. Given their current financial situation, however, Billy simply did not feel as though he had any right or reason to celebrate much of anything these days. At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Juan and Billy went to their lockers, put up their books, and retrieved their cowboy hats as they prepared to head home. Juan was quick to notice Billy’s depressed demeanor. His face showed his concern as the two youths headed for the parking lot, where they would get into Juan’s luxury pickup truck and ride home together. Then, suddenly, Billy sat down at one of the school’s picnic tables adjacent to the parking lot, laid his head on his arms, and simply broke down and wept, unable to hold back his frustration a minute longer. Juan, astonished and horrified at his friend’s emotional paroxysm, instantly sat down beside his best bud, putting a hugely-muscled arm around Billy’s slender shoulders. Wisely, he made no attempt to question his best friend for the moment, realizing that it would be better to let Billy ventilate his emotion first. Instead, he pulled Billy close and gently rubbed his back and shoulders, “It’s okay, Billy-bro’,” he murmured, referring to Billy by an old pet name, “it’s okay! Go ahead and cry, babe—don’t be ashamed of it! Let it out, Billy-bro’--let it all out!” The young Latino giant then kissed his best friend on the cheek. Billy responded by actually climbing into his best friend’s lap and continued to weep. Juan kissed him again, and tenderly rocked his best friend from side to side, unashamedly cuddling him, as he continued to gently rub Billy’s back. When at last it appeared that Billy was beginning to regain his composure, Juan gently inquired, “What is it, Billy? What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing you can do anything about, I'm afraid,” Billy replied in an almost croaking voice as he wiped his eyes. “How can you be sure of that if you don’t tell me?” Juan gently pleaded. “Please, mi amigo—we’ve been best friends for a dozen years now! You know my family and I will do anything we can to help you and your family out! If I can’t help you, then maybe someone else in my family can! So, come on, Billy-bro’--tell me all about it, please!” Reluctantly at first, Billy finally managed to choke out an explanation of his family’s plight. Juan’s mouth fell open, and his brown face actually went white with shock as he processed what his best bud was telling him. Then the young Latino’s expression turned stern and hard, his black eyes flashing with volcanic fury, and even more so when Billy concluded his tale of woe by telling of how the hospital collection agent had boasted that he was going to ruin Billy’s parents before it was all over. “We’ll just see about that!” Juan cried angrily. “Come on, Billy-bro—we’re gonna talk to my folks about this!” So saying, the two teens got into Juan’s pickup truck, and drove straight to his parents’ offices. The two elder Ramirezes were attorneys by profession, and were both well-respected in the community. They were just getting ready to leave the office and head home for the day when the two youths arrived. At Juan's urgent request, however, they promptly went back inside. They were both stunned to learn of their next-door neighbors’ financial difficulties. Alejandro Ramirez was a handsome, well-built man of 40, who seldom indulged in profanity. On hearing of the hospital collection agent’s arrogant boast that he intended to ruin the Mastersons, however, he angrily slammed his fist on his desk and erupted like the famous Paricutin volcano in some of the vilest language either of the boys had ever heard. “If that meshugginah cucaracha thinks he’s going to get away with that,” he concluded, “he’s plumb loco!” For her part, Maria Ramirez, a still-curvaceous woman of 35, had an expression on her face that was ominous in the extreme. While her language was by no means as profane as her husband’s, it was nevertheless quite deadly as she expressed her opinion of those who had so arrogantly threatened her family's neighbors and best friends. So much so, in fact, that Billy actually found himself shrinking back in terror. Seeing this, however, both Maria and Alejandro went to great lengths to comfort and reassure Billy. As the foursome headed out the office door together, Alejandro assured him that they would take up the family’s case immediately, and would do all they could to help correct the situation. At Juan’s suggestion, they all stopped off at the Mastersons’ ranch. Billy’s parents were understandably reluctant to accept the legal assistance the Ramirezes offered, but after tearful pleas from both Juan and Billy, they finally accepted. The two families thereupon discussed the Mastersons’ situation in more de-tail, providing the elder Ramirezes the information they needed to investigate whatever legal remedies might be available. To formally empower Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez to represent them, Mr. and Mrs. Masterson paid the Ramirezes a token retainer fee of $1.00. As the Ramirezes prepared to take their leave of their newest clients, Juan put his brawny hands firmly on his best bud’s slender shoulders. “Now, no excuses!” he told Billy firmly. “I want you over at our place for our Cinco de Mayo party after school lets out on Friday! Okay?” “Okay!” Billy replied, as the two youths exchanged a warm hug, kissing each other on the cheek as well. For the first time since his parents’ accident, Billy truly felt able to relax. He slept like a log that night, and awoke the next morning filled with more energy and optimism than he had felt in a long, long time. When Juan picked Billy up to go to school, Billy was astonished to see that his best friend was dressed in a full charro outfit, including a huge, lavishly-embroidered sombrero. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a little bit?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Juan. “Not really,” his best bud replied with a wicked grin. “It’s the day before Cinco de Mayo, so a lot of my Latino compadres will be dressed up in anticipation. And by the way,” he added, his grin becoming even more wicked, “I brought along an extra charro out-fit for you to wear today—everything from hat to boots—and I will NOT take no for an answer! You savvy?” Billy had been friends with Juan far too long to even think of arguing with him. Holding up his hands in surrender, he said, “Okay, mi amigo, okay!” He chuckled and shook his head. Juan knew that secretly Billy had always admired the flash and extravagance of the charro or “gentleman cowboy” look. Now, with his best bud preparing to give a speech on the history of Cinco de Mayo, Juan was determined to have Billy looking the part—to the very uttermost! The two youths arrived at school early enough to be able to use one of the dressing rooms next to the school auditorium for Billy to try on his new outfit. He stared in awe at the suit, which was in a deep, rich, royal purple blend of wool and polyester, heavily embroidered in gold and silver thread, with gold and silver buttons, known as galas or botonaduras, down the outseams of the legs. A white shirt in heavy silk satin, a purple satin bow tie, also embroidered in gold and silver, a pair of black patent leather ankle boots with 2-inch heels, a 2-inch wide, custom-made, embroidered pita belt, and a huge, heavily-embroidered sombrero with an incredible 24-inch brim, completed the ensemble. At Juan’s insistence, Billy, who had learned to apply and wear makeup in his speech and drama classes, stripped down to his underwear, then applied just enough eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, and lipstick to achieve a smoky, sultry, yet regal effect, complete with touches of silver and gold to match the embroidery colors in the suit. Then, in accordance with the tradition that a real cowboy always dresses from the top down, he put on the sombrero, the shirt and bow tie, the pants and belt, the boots, and finally the vest and jacket. He then preened himself before the 3-way mirror that stood next to the dres-sing table. From the moment he began putting on his makeup, Billy began to experience a feeling of growing strength, power, confidence, and well-being such as he had never known before. By the time he had finished dressing, Billy actually felt as pumped up as though he had just completed a major workout. He was grinning from ear to ear as he turned around and looked himself over. The carefully-applied makeup had enhanced and improved his already handsome appearance to the point where some would have referred to him as “a glam-rock charro pretty boy.” Juan whistled in amazement as he beheld his best friend's transformed appearance. “Ai carramba!” he exclaimed in admiration. “Dude, you look like a super-charro—like Mexican royalty!” “I feel like it in this outfit!” Billy replied with a deep, rich, throaty laugh filled with excitement and exultation. He then actually did a most muscular pose. As if in direct response, his body seemed to fill out the suit, as it al-so radiated strength, power and confidence. Before either youth could comment any further, however, the bell rang to signal the start of classes for the day. Billy then transferred his other clothes to a small laundry bag, which he then put in his locker after getting out his schoolbooks. His face was radiant with exuberance as he and Juan went to their first-period homeroom. From the moment they stepped out into the hallway from the dressing room, Billy and Juan were both showered with compliments and appreciative wolf whistles. Even the school’s most hard-core cowboys and rednecks complimented the two youths on their outfits and appearance. As they moved from one class to another, both boys were repeatedly kissed by their female classmates in the hallways. Not sur-prisingly, Billy and Juan were both on the verge of an orgasm by the time they got to their P.E. class. In addition, Billy’s muscles seemed to be filling out and expanding constantly throughout the day. When the two young charros finally changed into their gym clothes, they and their classmates were all stunned. Both boys’ physiques had in fact grown significantly larger, but Billy’s muscles appeared to have literally doubled in size. Despite this, both their charro suits and their gym clothes accommodated their expanding musculature with ease. The two youths shook their heads in amazement as they headed for the weight room. As he moved from one station in the weight room to another, Billy felt as though every muscle in his body was being pumped and stretched virtually to the bursting point. Even his gonads felt as though they were steadily growing bigger, more powerful, more potent, and more virile. Billy’s hair was grow-ing as well—longer, thicker, richer, fuller, softer, and shinier. In fact, by the time Billy finished his workout, his chocolate brown tresses had actually morphed into a huge mass of the biggest, brawniest-looking curls he had ever set his eyes on—and he loved it! Juan was agog at his best bud’s progress as he went through his own workout. By the time both boys had finished their workouts, Juan was pumped up bigger than he had ever been before, while Billy’s muscles had grown beyond their previous size by a full 25%! Furthermore, Juan’s own straight, jet-black hair had also grown considerably longer. In fact, from being at the top of his collar at the start of the day, it was now fully down to the bottom of his massive young shoulders, which had increased in size and width beyond anything even he had ever dreamed of—and when he flexed his biceps, their peaks actually came up to the tops of his earlobes! As might be expected, Billy, Juan, and all of their classmates—especially the ones from the rodeo team—were going wild with delight as the two young charros headed for the showers. Even as they washed themselves, Billy and Juan simply could not keep from flexing and pumping in front of each other, let-ting out screams of delight, as every pose seemed to make them both grow bigger—and BIGGER—AND B-I-G-G-E-R! In fact, by the time the two youths managed to dry themselves off, Billy was actually as big and massive and full of power as Juan himself! Billy was actually hesitant as he prepared to open up his locker and change back into his charro suit. “As—as big as I am now,” he told Juan, “I’m actually wondering if my outfit will even come close to fitting me!” Juan chuckled and answered, “Same here, Billy-bro’! The way this day’s been going, though, I’ll bet you that our charro suits will not only fit us, but they’ll both be richer and flashier and more glam-rocking gorgeous than they were before!” Juan’s prediction turned out to be squarely on target. As the two young giants changed back into their charro suits, they found that the suits fit them with ease, flattering their newly enlarged physiques to the uttermost, yet with room for further growth. Furthermore, both suits were significantly more lavish and extravagant than before, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight with reflections from numerous sequins in every color of the rainbow. The other students went wild over the appearance of the two teen super-charros, who received even more kisses from the girls than before—and were more than happy to return them! Once again, Billy went to the library for study hall, where he completed work on his presentation for the next day. Then, with permission from the study hall teacher, the two youths went to the school’s music library, which was located between the choir and band classrooms. Billy spent several minutes searching in the file cabinets containing band and orchestral music, until at last, with a cry of “Eure-ka!”, he pulled out a conductor’s score for a work entitled, “Night in Mexico,” by an American com-poser named Paul Creston. Billy then had a quick discussion with the school’s band and orchestra teacher, who gladly allowed him to borrow the score. As they headed for the school’s executive offices, Juan inquired, “So what have you got in mind, Maestro?” Billy then reminded his best friend that their school was one of the few public schools in California that was equipped with a concert organ. Like his father, Billy was a trained organist. “I’m going to see if our speech teacher will allow me to do my presentation on Cinco de May-o in the auditorium, and wind it up by playing this piece on the organ,” he concluded. “Oh, kewl!” the young Latino gushed. The speech teacher, however, referred the two youths to their school's Executive Principal, as required by their local School Board. The Executive Principal was more than happy to grant permission for Billy to perform on the organ for the occasion. Although it had not been used in more than a year, it was still in good condition, and had just been cleaned and tuned in preparation for the school’s graduation exercises, which were just over a month away. “In fact,” the Principal suggested, “since we’re going to hold a school assembly about Cinco de Mayo tomorrow, why not check with your speech teacher about incorporating your presentation into the program? A performance of a piece like ‘Night in Mexico’ would be a perfect way to wind up the assembly!” Billy and Juan’s speech teacher was more than happy to agree to Billy’s proposal. As the two youths headed for the school auditorium, the final bell sounded, signaling the end of classes for the day. This was a welcome development, since it would allow Billy to practice the piece without being disturbed, and would allow his performance the following day to be a complete surprise to the other students—hopefully, a welcome one! Billy’s teenaged heart was pounding with excitement as the big organ console was brought out from under the stage and moved into playing position. For his part, Juan was only too happy to act as Billy’s console assistant, turning pages for him and helping his best friend to set the organ’s controls for the upcoming performance. Even as they did so, both boys’ muscles were swelling with even greater power and strength, while their hair and their costumes became even more beautiful, more lavish, and more glamorous. It was after 5:00 that afternoon when, having completed their preparations, the two teen charros re-turned the organ console to its storage bay under the stage, retrieved Billy’s street clothes, and headed home. As they drove, Juan, who had been waiting for just such an opportunity, spoke up. “First of all, Babe, in case you haven’t already guessed, that outfit is yours to keep—in fact, I had it custom-made just for you as a graduation present.” He paused for a minute, then continued, “When it was first delivered to me, I asked our family priest to ask a special blessing on it, especially after all you and your family have been through these past few months.” He took a deep breath, swelling his already huge chest still further, then concluded with a grin, “I think you’ll agree that my family’s prayers have been answered—and with compound interest!” “I’ll say they have!” Billy gushed, as they turned into the Mastersons’ driveway. As Juan brought his pickup truck to a stop in front of the ranch house, the two youths were surprised to see the car belong-ing to Juan’s parents was once more parked in front as well. “Could they have gotten some results al-ready?” Billy wondered aloud, as they exited the truck. “My parents never waste time, dude—and all the more so in a case like this!” Juan replied, a wicked grin lighting up his now super-handsome face. Before going in, however, Billy threw his now-gigantic arms around his best friend and literally covered his face with kisses. Then, his brown eyes looking deep into Juan’s black ones, Billy simply said, “I love you, Juan!” His own eyes aglow, Juan replied, “I love you, too, Billy! Please don’t ever doubt that!” “Never, Babe,” Billy gushed, as the two young giants cuddled each other, “never, EVER!” It was several moments before the two of them regained their composure and went inside, where they found their parents deep in conversation. The elder Mastersons and Ramirezes were all astounded at the incredible enhancements in their sons' appearance—Billy’s especially! The four parents shook their heads in wonder as the two youths explained the day's events. They were greatly excited at the news of Billy’s impending performance the next day. “Now let us give you some news!” Alejandro Ramirez said. He jubilantly reported that the problems with the Mastersons’ insurance company had been completely resolved, and so had the problems with the hospital’s collection agency. An investigation of the agents involved had revealed that the two of them were in cahoots, and had forged or altered many of the documents involved in the case, in a plot to steal the Mastersons’ property. The motive for their actions lay in the fact that the hospital collections agent was a former suitor of Billy’s mother, and had long wanted revenge on her for rejecting him in favor of Billy’s father. His brother-in-law was the insurance adjuster who had been assigned the Masterson file by the insurance company, and had immediately joined in the plot to ruin the family. On discovering these facts, the Ramirezes had promptly notified both the hospital and the insurance company, as well as the local District Attorney. The two conspirators had promptly been arrested, and were now being held without bond on a variety of state and Federal charges, including forgery, embezzlement, and misappropriation of contract payments. The Mastersons’ accounts with both the hospital and the insurance company were now being audited, but both the hospital and the insurance company officials had given assurances that all of the disputed expenses would be taken care of, and that no fur-ther collection efforts would be made. In addition, the Ramirezes had filed suit against the collection agency for its unethical business practices. In turn, the agency’s contract with the hospital had been summarily terminated; the agency was itself now under investigation, and would most likely be perma-nently shut down as a result. “It will take a little while,” Maria smilingly concluded, “but in all probability, you folks will come out of all of this in better financial shape than you have ever been!” “And in addition,” Alejandro put in, “we’ve also found out that the people who bought your horses were in cahoots with these two jokers. They’ve also been arrested, and their purchases have been declared null and void by the courts. Your horses should be returned to you in the next few days!” “Will we have to return the money they paid us?” Billy asked. Alejandro shook his head. “As I said, the purchases were declared null and void by the courts. The judge presiding over the case specifically stated that you folks were under no obligation to pay back a single penny, because the purchases were part of a criminal conspiracy. So you folks are out from under your debts completely!” Billy and Juan whooped with joy and hugged each other hard. Now Billy would have all the more reason to celebrate Cinco de Mayo with his Mexican friends the next day. With that, the Ramirezes took their leave for the evening. As he was getting ready to go out the front door, however, Juan whispered in his best bud’s ear, “You be sure and wear that charro suit again tomorrow—you got that?” “Got it!” Billy whispered back with a radiant grin, as the two young giants kissed each other on the cheek before parting for the night. The Fifth of May dawned brighter and clearer than any previous Cinco de Mayo Billy could remember. After showering, shaving, and putting on his makeup, Billy stood in front of the three-way mirror in his bedroom and went into a series of muscle poses. Sure enough, Billy realized, he was even bigger and brawnier than he had been the night before. His hair was also bigger—in fact, it just barely fit inside his sombrero as he began to dress! When he had finally completed donning his outfit, the young charro preened himself in front of the mirror for a few moments. Sure enough, just as it had the day before, his charro suit had somehow grown to accommodate his still-growing physique, and was even more lavish than it had been the night before. In place of the sequins, the entire suit was now festooned with crystals in every color of the rainbow, sending out a shower of multi-colored sparks in the bright morning sunlight. The coat and pants were now lined with rich, heavy gold satin, while the shirt had transformed into the richest white satin brocade he had ever seen. Juan had been right, he decided—the suit really did make him look like charro royalty. Billy had just barely finished eating a huge breakfast when he heard a car horn tooting outside. Hastily kissing his parents goodbye, he ran to the front door—only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of the most extravagant mega-stretch limousine he had ever seen anywhere! Juan was laughing hysterically as his best bud slowly made his way out the door and over to the limo. “This is a Cinco de Mayo present!” he explained, kissing his best bud on the cheek for good measure. Needless to say, Billy promptly kissed Juan on the cheek and gave him a huge hug. They then boarded the limo for the 30-minute drive to school. The school day that followed was a triumph for both boys in every respect. As in Billy’s case, Juan was noticeably bigger and brawnier than he had been the night before, and his charro suit was even larger, richer, and more extravagant. It was no wonder, then, that the two teen super-charros were both mobbed like rock stars when they entered the building, and at every change of classes as well. Nor was it any wonder that both boys received and returned so many kisses that they were in a testosterone haze throughout the entire school day! Finally—you guessed it—both Juan and Billy, as well as their outfits, continued to grow larger, richer, and more extravagantly glamorous all the day long. Because of the special presentation he was scheduled to give, Billy (and Juan, at Billy’s request) were both excused from both speech and P.E. classes that day. Instead, with the assistance of the school's music teachers, the two boys brought the organ console up from its storage area and onto the stage. They were relieved to find that the controls they had set so carefully the previous day had not been disturbed. This gave Billy the opportunity to set the organ up for one additional composition—the “Variations on America” by American composer Charles Ives. Billy explained to Juan that Ives had been only 16 when he had first performed the piece on July 4, 1891, and its humorous character was therefore amply suited to a high school audience, who might otherwise become bored during the assembly. Juan had heard a recording of the piece before, and he grinned wickedly as he remembered its hilarious sounds. He could see what his best bud had in mind, and he therefore looked forward all the more eagerly to the upcoming assembly. The assembly was everything either Billy or Juan could have wished for. After some opening remarks by the Executive Principal, Billy gave his history of Cinco de Mayo, and explained why it is in fact significant to the history of the United States as well as Mexico. In addition, he successfully answered several questions from members of the audience. The school's history teacher then rounded out the speaking part of the presentation, warmly commending Billy for his efforts as he did so. The students warmly applauded in appreciation. At this point, the Executive Principal returned to the podium. The audience was both surprised and intrigued to hear of the impending musical portion of the program. They warmly applauded Billy as he now took command of the program. As he seated himself at the big four-manual-and-pedal console, the young super-charro pointed out that Cinco de Mayo was and is a celebration of freedom and liberty for both Mexico and the United States. Such being the case, Billy explained, it was only fitting and proper to include an appropriate musical selection from each country to round out the assembly. The audience enthusiastically murmured its agreement. His first selection was the Ives “Variations on America.” When Billy pointed out that Ives had been only 16 when he first performed and then wrote down the piece, there was scattered but enthusiastic applause. As his performance of the piece got under the way, the audience chuckled at the appropriate moments. Their chuckles progressed to outright laughter and guffaws as the piece progressed, and all the more so as Billy concluded the work by including a loud, raucous “AH-OO-OO-OO-OO-GAH” from the organ’s built-in Klaxon horn, then played the final chords on maximum full organ. Most of the students had never heard the school’s organ before, and they were clearly enchanted with its wide variety of sounds and musical effects. They jumped to their feet and roared their appreciation of the first selection. As he stood and bowed in response, a wicked twinkle came into Billy’s dark brown eyes. He then held up his hands for silence. Then, looking his best bud directly in the eye, he said, “That number should be retitled, ‘Juan Ramirez Rides Again!'” Juan instantly doubled over as the audience joined him in a bellow of hysterical laughter, followed by a roar of applause. The excitement in the room now rose to fever pitch as Billy announced his second and final selection, Paul Creston’s “Night in Mexico.” He briefly explained the unusual history behind the piece, then resumed his seat at the console and began to play. Numerous heads in the audience nodded in direct response to the music’s infectious rhythm as the piece proceeded. When Billy performed the fiery arpeggio that concluded the work on maximum full organ, the audience went simply wild with delight. They rightly gave Billy a standing ovation as he bowed before them. With that, the Executive Principal dismissed the assembly. As he did so, the final bell sounded to signal the end of the school day. Billy and Juan were both riding the proverbial Cloud Nine as they made their way through the crowd of students and headed for the side exit, where their limousine was waiting for them. Again, any number of their fellow students showered them with compliments and congratulations. Billy especially gave and received so many kisses (although Juan got his fair share as well!) that by the time the two young giants got into the limo he was again on the verge of an orgasm! Somehow, he successfully managed to channel the extra sexual energy into his outfit and his muscles. Juan did likewise, as they both grew to a height of well over seven feet. Their pectoral muscles came up to within a few inches of their chins, while their trapezius muscles swelled up to the tops of their ears! Even the muscles in their faces grew noticeably larger and more powerful, yet in a way that caused them both to become even more glamor-ous and gorgeous! Their already over-the-top, “super-charro” suits became even more so, as the multi-colored crystals became actual diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and other precious and semi-precious stones in every color of the rainbow! As if that weren’t enough, the fabric of the two suits transformed from its original wool-polyester blend into cloth-of-gold, while that of the shirts changed from an already lavish silk satin brocade into cloth-of-silver! Even their sombreros got into the act, as they grew from 24-inch to 36-inch brims to match the new size of their owners, and, like the suits, were covered with precious and semi-precious stones! The Cinco de Mayo party was already in full swing by the time the two now “mega-charros” pulled up to the Ramirezes’ front door. Billy was overjoyed to see Rosita, who had come home from her private school specifically for the occasion. Both he and Juan were pleasantly shocked to see that Rosita, a long-time “femuscle” girl, was now every bit as huge as they were! The kiss that Billy exchanged with his long-time love was overwhelming for both of them. It was at that moment that Billy made up his mind to ask Rosita to marry him, knowing full well that she would instantly say “yes.” Only a few feet away, Juan was exchanging a similar kiss with Ruby, who had also grown into a “mega-femuscle” girl. The party itself was everything that either Juan or Billy could have wished for, with food and drink and dancing lasting far into the night. When at last the party began to wind down, but before they parted for the night, Billy, Juan, Rosita and Ruby got down on their knees together, then joined hands and gave thanks for the miracles they had recently experienced. Recognizing the responsibility that came with such blessings, they prayed for God’s continuing help and guidance as they prepared to enter the adult world and spend the rest of their lives together.

Physical Potential Foundation, good afternoon. How may I help you? Yes, that's one of the companies we own. The Foundation assist in scheduling customers, in order to optimise their experience according to their particular goals and preferences. Have you received the paper copy of the form, or do you sign it online? I see, Sir, yes I am delighted to assist you. I am well aware of, that it might seem overwhelming, but it is for safety purposes and in order to ensure customer satisfaction. Location, yes? Well, you see, Sir, some of our customers prefer to stay at our centre located in the tropics, because of the weather: To enjoy the sun and have opportunities to take a bath in the ocean. We call it The Physique Pictorial Experience. Other customers prefer our northern centre – especially popular for stays during Christmas and New Year, and particularly popular among those who enjoy the company of bears, if you catch my drift? Our northern centre has several very authentic Finnish saunas, with easy access to snow and ice-covered bathing lakes. Our western centre is particularly popular among bikers, and our Atlantic one among punks, scallies and skinheads, but I can assure you, that there's a great deal of overlap. Many customers prefer to consult the centre closest to their home, in order to cut the travelling expenses short. Aha? Okey? Yes, I see. No, sir, there is nothing to be shy of. We have seen and heard anything by now. Yes, that particular part of the form is in place, to ensure satisfied customers. If you click on that link, you will see some photographs of former customers with blurred faces. So, to begin with, we have the first alternative, which we call FITLAD. It's highly popular, especially among our younger customers and among middle-aged professionals, who have to take their professional career in account. Then we have the second offer, HUNK, which is primarily targeted at young customers. Middle-aged and elderly customers usually prefer our third option, FOUNTAIN-OF-YOUTH, with practically the same effects as the HUNK option. Our remaining options are called BRUISER, SUPER-HERO and BULL, but if you click the links... You do? Yes? Yes, Sir. I see. If you change your mind, you still have the opportunity to select another option up to ten days before arrival. No, Sir. All visible employees are male, but we have many female employees behind the scenes, as it were. We want to create a certain type of ambience. Those boxes are there, to ensure that you doesn't feel embarrassed. Some customers are not easily embarrassed, and go for the second option, which include access to our nearby theme-park, Tom's Land. You have to sign, that you understand the legal nature of a 'no', and, if you tick any of the optional boxes, you will be given a colour-coded hanky-badge at your arrival, in order to prevent misunderstandings. The third option is legal at the geographical locations of the centres, yes, but customers who chose the third option are housed in other buildings than guests who go for option one or option two. We want to avoid embarrassment. Yes, prophylactics are mandatory. Yes, I understand, if the next set of boxes look unusual, but some of our customers want to add one or another of these specifics, to ensure that they are surrounded by the right crowd of fellow customers after The Treatment: Big feet, ginger and shot wound scars. Otherwise, you just tick 'Doesn't matter'. Yes. Yes, I see. No, Sir. We don't do racial profiling. It's an early decision from when the Foundation started the companies, and it still remain in force. Neither do we accept customers or employees younger than 21, for several reasons. You will meet employees and fellow customers of all and every ethnical background, everyone over the age of 21. The gyms? Each centre have five gyms. Two of these do not allow sex in the locker rooms. Non-embarrassment policy, again. The options are: Mainstream, Hardcore, Steamy locker, Fetish and Naked. Yes? Oh, I see, Sir. No. No reason to apologise, Sir. You are very welcome. Do you need more information about the restaurants? No? Online information enough? Very well, Sir. We take the utmost care to combine high nutritional value and an inviting masculine atmosphere, and you will be given the opportunity to plan each meal with our PTs and waiters. You will also be sent information about our work for charities: Preventing STD, projects against bullying, and scholarships for working-class teenagers and young men. Affluent customers like to donate, less affluent customers shall not feel any pressure to do so. Actually, we have stipends to make it easier for less-affluent customers to receive The Treatment. We cultivate a sort of brotherly spirit at the Foundation. Our founders took a certain interest in all these areas, and all our companies try to maintain and realise our founders' vision. No, it was a pleasure to help you. Your form will be processed within 24 hours, and we will give you optional dates to chose between within three days. Just remember, that the waiting-list is quite long, as you might expect. Yes. Yes. A pleasure. You are welcome. Bye. - - - Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13680-the-company-chapter-1/

Preface Yes. It is another short story without continuation. There are other sorts of stories than multi-chapter ones. Yes. It is another one in an army setting, as so many other stories of mine. I repeat myself. Yes. It will be dark and dystopian, since this technology would always be abused, if it existed, which is a pity: I would have preferred a bright and colourful world of plucky, cheerful Captain Norways, Captain Luxembourgs and Captain Canadas full of high ideals. You have been warned. The Antaeus protocol He could feel the familiar scent of the hypertrophic solution. The odour made him think of wounds tended by iodine, swimming pools kept clean by calcium hypochlorite or chemistry lessons from school years, but, despite the similarities, the hypertrophic solution had a unique and unmistakeable scent of its own, and by now Sergeant Scott could recognise it anywhere. No one would say, that it smelled good, but, by now, Sergeant Scott had begun to associate it with Project Ultramarine, and most things with Project Ultramarine made him feel excited. Most things. He could vaguely recollect aspects of the Project, that didn't make him feel excited: The simulated interrogations, the simulated torture, the abrupt wake-ups at 3 or 4 a.m., but those things beside, he felt honoured, that he had been chosen for the Project, and he felt excited every time Doctor Ohm scheduled him for The Chamber. It was almost as something out of a comic book: Scott had joined the Royal Marines, been re-assigned to SAS, done well in things related to endurance, marksmanship, diving, HAHO/HALO and intelligence, but he was scrawny, and had weak results in anything related to heavy equipment. One of his superiors had re-assigned him to a top secret project: Project Ultramarine. Sergeant Scott had increased six inches in height and 55 lbs in weight – none of it bodyfat, all of it muscle mass. Scott felt like a different person, and he liked to be one of the chosen for the project. He wanted to serve in the armed forces in order to protect civilians, and Project Ultramarine increased his ability to perform his duty. Just a few weeks ago, he had marched with heavy equipment across the Cairngorm Mountains with a medium speed of 18 mph despite an intense snow storm. He turned around a corner. Brigadier Smythe-Fforbes had invited a handful of high-ranking officers, but it was not of Scott's concern to know any details. Need-to-know-basis. As usual. The scent of the hypertrophic solution was now mixed with whiffs of the dry air and scent left by anabolic radiation. Not exactly like the dentist's, not exactly like a tanning bed, but, despite the traces of hypertrophic steam, the air felt dryer than normal, and it tickled in his throat. He entered the Lab. Quite a few men sat on chairs or stood small-talking, when he entered. Doctor Ohm and Evans, the lab assistant, were the only civilians, and were easily recognisable in their white lab coats and black rubber gloves. He saluted and stood at attention. "Stand at ease, Sergeant!" Scott stared straightforward, but his enhanced senses had already identified an unusually high number of generals, admirals and marshals among the gathered men. For a few seconds his mind drifted – drifted back in time to his first exposure to The Chamber. Doctor Ohm had only exposed him to a low amount of anabolic radiation at that time, but, since it was his first bath in the hypertrophic solution, he hadn't known what to expect, and the experience had been overwhelming. The energy blast had hit him like a blow, and his wiry physique had began to fill out in a very pleasant way, that had taken him with surprise. He had become empowered, he had felt his strength increase, and the formula given to him 45 minutes before treatment had been released by the relentless onslaught of the anabolic radiation. After his first submersion in The Chamber, Doctor Ohm and Evans had permitted him three consecutive exposures, weeks of tests and evaluation apart. Doctor Ohm was reluctant to increase the formula, the concentration of the solution and the intensity of the radiation, and only increased them in small steps, after what seemed like careful consideration. Sometimes, Scott had noticed traces of impatience in Evans' face, but didn't give it much of a thought. He had also observed seemingly inactive lenses in the walls of the chamber – the radiation came from below and above. The Brigadier had been giving a speech, and Sergeant Scott's attention returned to the Lab. "And as you have read in the handouts, Gentlemen, the effect is very promising. Before we proceed, I will let you observe the test subject's present level of ability." The Brigadier waved in the direction of the weights. Scott had been told beforehand, that he should demonstrate his strength before the guests. Scott lay down on a bench, removed the barbell from the stand, and began to press the weight of 660 lbs up and down, up and down: Nine times. He could feel blood rush to his newly trained pecs. It felt good. He rose and stood at ease. The officers were whispering. The Brigadier continued. "As you may understand, this neglected branch of research is in need of further funding, and, as you have seen and read, the results are very promising. But this is not all. You will also witness the next step of the test subject's enhancement. Doctor Ohm? Mr. Evans? Sergeant Scott!" "Sir!" "Please proceed to The Chamber, Sergeant." "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Evans stood at the landing, and helped Scott with the facial breathing mask and the electrodes at his temples. Scott descended down the steps in the still empty chamber. Evans closed the lid. Normally, Scott would have undressed before entering the chamber, but, as he understood it, The Brigadier would give the guests a show, in order to ensure funding. The glass was too thick to allow him to hear all noises from outside, but his enhanced ability to listen would allow him to receive a few fragments, at least. The Brigadier gesticulated outside, and seemed to continue his speech. Doctor Ohm turned to the console, and Evans stood ready by the switches for the gas and the solution. A hissing sound began, and Scott eagerly inhaled. It had become better and better by each time, and he couldn't guess how much better it would be this time. A silent murmuring sound, he now was familiar with, grew in intensity, turning to a hum, and, as the murmur increased into a humming sound, Scott's anticipation increased, too: The anabolic radiation device was heating up, and he was soon going to be exposed to something, that would improve his endurance, increase his strength and enhance the size of his muscles. He swallowed. A whispering sound combined with a slight dizziness witnessed, that the formula was spreading in his body, and it was ready to react to the anabolic rays. The chamber felt dry, and the hair on his forearms bristled like the first time. Like the other times. Any second now. He swallowed. Unconsciously, he tensed his muscles in anticipation of the oncoming flow of energy, and his dick awoke inside his pants and camo trousers. He became acutely aware of his bodily extension: How his feet were enclosed by green socks and boots smelling of boot polish. His camo trousers smelled of moth repellant, and the olive-coloured t-shirt felt snug and tight on his hard and built torso. He could feel the pump in his pecs, from the bench press a few minutes earlier. The humming increased. So did his blood pressure. He wouldn't call it fright or fear, but each step of enhancement was a step into the unknown. He was the prototype. It hadn't been done before. No one could know with certainty, that each latest step was free from risk. Even if the experiments had turned successful in the past, the new factors introduced at this step could have unforeseen consequences. He ran the risk of bodily harm or even lethal effects, but on the other side, if it worked, the positive effects might be far beyond their expectations. He hoped, that Doctor Ohm knew what he did, but the almost exaggerated cautiousness, by which the scientist had proceeded during Project Ultramarine, comforted Sergeant Scott in his doubts: The Doctor didn't take any risks. Any second now. The breathing mask hissed. His throat felt dry. He swallowed. He could hear his pulse in his temples. His dick throbbed against the fabric of his pants. Evans had mentioned something about high testo levels. The Chamber hummed more loudly now. He braced himself. Then it erupted. The rays beamed through him, penetrating every muscle fibre in his body, and there was nothing he could do to protect him from it, had the effect been dangerous. But it felt good. He could feel his muscles react to the radiation, feeling more than pumped, sore and heavy and powerful at the same time, and he could feel the hem of the t-shirt slip out of his trousers, and slide upwards over his waist and belly-button, revealing his cobble-stone six-pack and his steel-hard obliques. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, and only absent-mindedly aware of the splashing sound of hypertrophic solution, that, with increasing force, began to fill the chamber. The t-shirt felt ever tighter, and the anabolic rays empowered him, more than ever before. With a yelp, he flexed his arms, and the short sleeves of his shirt ripped apart. With a moan, he did a crab, and the remaining fabric fell into the solution, tumbling around in the bubbling liquid. Though cargo trousers are supposed to be wide, the camo-patterned trouser legs could no longer contain his growing – nay, expanding! – quads and hamstrings, and the tatters, that once had been trouser-fabric was soon floating together with the former t-shirt. The Brigadier said something. The audience looked amazed. The level of the liquid rose quickly, and Scott felt relief, when he became fully surrounded by it, floating in the hypertrophic solution, that increased the effect of the anabolic rays tenfold, twentyfold. The boots felt uncomfortable around his feet. It had been a bad idea to keep them for propaganda purposes. They actually felt quite painful and too tight! And then his growing feet forced themselves out of the army boots, which sank to the bottom of The Chamber. Only his pants remained, and they were made of some sort of stretchy fabric, that felt comfortable against his bum and dick. Wet. Elastic. Expanding. Keeping his rod in place. Adapting. He was adapting, too. He floated with closed eyes in the warm solution, and he allowed his big, growing hands explore the slabs of power-beef he once had called his pecs. His shoulders were increasing too: Hard! Bulging! Still growing! Each one of the three shoulder muscles clearly separated – which also was true about the two heads of each biceps. He let his index finger touch his biceps and run along the separation between the two muscle heads. His palm squeezed his tensed biceps. It felt hard and good, approaching the size of a handball now. Size of a handball! His dick twitched. Size-of-a-handball-now! The liquid turned the thick glass into a mirror. He could watch his own reflection, and it amazed him, but the thick glass made it hard to hear what happened outside. He thought he could hear fragments of an argument. A few tumbling chairs? Raised voices? The Brigadier? One of the generals? Doctor Ohm? ".... No! Safety precautions..." And then gunfire. A few shouts. An unknown voice: "... proceed... ...increase... ...activate the Antaeus Protocol." "No! Not the Antaeus Protocol! Too dangerous! ... untested..." "... increase..." He felt alarmed for a few seconds, but then something happened. Something amazing. Something that defied all description. The electrodes used for programming of brainwave-pattern activated, and they activated with heightened intensity. It was not like any of the gradual and mild programming sessions he had experienced before. He was overwhelmed. The promise of mental and bodily pleasure made him eager to learn new abilities, and the Antaeus Protocol taught him to kill without remorse, erased his conscience and turned him into an obedient combat-machine. There was a second or two of hesitation and surprise, but the human instincts and hesitating conscience were soon quenched by the unbending and relentless Antaeus Protocol. His resistance was broken. He accepted the Antaeus Protocol, and, in the same second, the anabolic radiation increased in intensity. His eyes widened. His entire body spasmed for a few seconds. He could feel his cock rip the fabric of his pants apart. Testo levels! TESTO POWER! The surrounding hypertrophic solution bubbled intensely now, increasing the effect of the rising anabolic radiation manyfold. It went far beyond any of the earlier experiments, and Scott was now unaware of his surroundings, lost in the overwhelming experience of extreme, unlimited GROWTH. The unknown lenses he had observed before in two of the walls began to lit up, and flashed into life. The chamber, the liquid and anything inside the chamber were now exposed to two different types of power. The effect of the hypertrophic radiation was multiplied by the synergy of the unknown power. Scott's arms and legs thrashed around uncontrollably in the energised, bubbling liquid and his moans increased into bellows and roars: Bellows and roars of pleasure, bellows and roars of unbridled aggression and bellows and roars of a nameless ecstasy going beyond them both. He grew uncontrollably now, but he didn't want to control it. He just wanted more. He wanted all of it. He wanted uncrushable brawn and indestructible muscle mass. In the mirror-like surface of The Chamber he could see his physical appearance transcend all formerly known limits of the human physique. He must have been 6'10'' now, and he was still increasing rapidly in height. His muscle mass was like some unknown matter which was boiling over, but there was nothing random or deformed with his shape: The expanding steel-hard beef was shaping itself into the most well-proportioned and efficient icon of strength beyond strength, masculinity beyond ultra-masculinity. The gigantic shape of a titan emerged. A powerful titan bulging and throbbing of muscular strength. Scott felt the mounds – no, mountains! – that were the building blocks of his body, and increasingly more power was still ever crammed into ever fibre of his being. He could tangibly feel himself grow, and then he saw something, that looked like a liquid metal, like mercury, and shiny like a mirror, form around his body. He could feel the substance surround him and enclose him, and, when the process was finished, he felt entirely invulnerable. He felt indestructible, like a titan of yore. He was undefeatable, like Antaeus. Come hell or come high water, he would obey every order. He was the prototype of the Antaeus Protocol.

Dad’s Growth In a quaint suburban town lived a family of muscle heads. They were the Brooks. The father who went by Big B was a black Caucasian Shepherd dog. He was a towering figure in person and as the owner of the only construction company in their town. Ever since high school Big B was an avid sports fur, more specifically a star in the wrestling ring. Till today the local high school display his award for bringing home the trophy in the wrestling championship on his own, a feat that no one had ever accomplish ever again. Sadly after graduation and starting a family at 18 the dog did not maintain his physique. Once a prime example of physical prowess, the shepherd had been reduced to a bear like build. His once hard washboard abs was replaced by a soft gut. What used to be a dense barrel chest and powerful titanic thighs were now soft and smoother a little. Even his once powerful grapefruit sized arms that could carry half the cheerleading team had grown weaker. He was fortunate that his long fluffy fur made it hard for others to see what had become to his body. Still the other furs respected Big B for his work and effort as a single father. One drunken night after the prom with the captain of the debate team resulted in a shotgun marriage and the arrival of a beautiful baby boy. Big B’s wife wasn’t satisfied with being forced into the role of a mother at such a young age so they filed for a divorce in less than a year, but the baby would stay with him. He worked hard to build a proper home for his boy, started at the construction company as nothing more than a grunt worker but he worked his way up and rubbed elbows with the right fur until he could set up his own company. Soon he moved from a run-down apartment to a proper terrace house where his son could grow up well. The pup was named Benny. Like his father the pup was tall, by 15 his head was the same level as his old man. His fur was jet black from head to toe with patches of orange on his back and forehead. He also inherited his father’s love of sports as he led the school’s football team, and after joining college he continued the sport he loved. Big B could not deny that he felt a pang of jealousy watching his son reach the same level of musculature he had at that age. It reminded him that he was getting old. Determined to make a change for himself while his son was away in college he would do everything it takes to build his muscles again. In now times, Benny was due to come home for his 2 week semester break. Sporting a plain blue t shirt and jeans the 19 year old dog slept throughout his bus ride home as the weeks before was crammed with finals and overdue assignments. He could not wait to crash on his old bed. By the time he reached the bus stop his phone showed that it was 6:30 p.m. His dad promised to pick him the night before, but he never showed up. Another reason for Benny to be concerned, already on the phone his dad sounded weird, he kept breathing heavily into the phone and weird groaning sounds came from him. After waiting for an hour with no dad in sight Benny decided to lug himself and his backpack on foot. The young pup reached home at 7:30 p.m. Panting heavily with his tongue out he really wanted to give his dad a piece of his mind. As he approached the door his ears perked up to weird sounds coming from the inside. Pressing his ear against the wooden white door he could hear odd squishing sounds like someone walking through a puddle. Then he heard his father’s gruff voice grunting and saying “Fuck”. Was something wrong? Was his dad in danger? Benny had to find out. Unsure of what to face if there was an intruder he planned to tackle them on sight, and if his dad was injured he had to run fast to get help. His heart was racing, ready to burst out of his chest as he knocked on the door loudly. It was when he heard his dad’s reply that all the tension within him was sapped away. “H-hold on,” his dad’s voice said. The door flew open and Benny was left speechless at what he saw. His eyes were staring straight at the largest pair of pecs he had ever seen. They were large enough to be mistaken for watermelons. Benny had to take a step back to see the massive creature taking up the entire door frame. The creature’s feet were massive with thighs so wide and thick that it could crush an entire bike. Hard 8 pack abs lined its stomach area. It wore a yellow jockstrap that did nothing to hide the thick semi hard dick the size of Benny’s forearm and two massive globes that hung beneath the member. And still that wasn’t all of it, the rest of the creature’s arms and head was hidden away by the small door frame. He didn’t want to believe it but the creature had to be his father. “D-ad?” Benny called out softly. “Son?” The creature ducked under the doorframe and true enough it was his dad. The older dog’s fur on his head was messier than usual. Benny just stared in awe at his now 7 foot tall father. Questions ran through his head but before he could speak, two thick hands grabbed him from under the armpits and pulled him into the tightest bear hug he ever had. His snout was buried deep in the cleavage of his father’s pectorals. “Son! So good to see you. Look how big you are now,” Big B said. The older dog was swinging his son’s body left and right excitedly without realizing that his son was beating on his chest with all his might, trying to get his attention. It was when benny’s foot accidentally rubbed against his dad’s dick that Big B looked down between his pecs and realized his son wanted to be put down. Benny gasped and coughed. The scent of his dad’s musky and sweaty fur was stuck on his nose. “D-d-dad. What the fuck?” Big B chuckled. “You like it son?” the older dog raised his right arm and flexed, the thick arm bulged up to the size of a bowling ball. “Daddy’s been working out!” he said before bringing his arm close to his snout and licked it. Benny was unsure of what to say, but he had to get his suddenly sexy dad inside. “Dad No! The neighbors will see,” the younger dog pushed his dad on the stomach but the larger dog did not budge. “Pssh, it ain’t something they haven’t seen. Heck Bob next door saw me naked yesterday. I’m sure he enjoyed it,” Big B replied. “DAD!” The humongous dog then started backed away inside just to satisfy his embarrassed son. Benny thought things would be better inside but he was wrong. The entire living room was empty of all other furniture except for the old couch which looked like it was on its last legs-literally. Bottles of protein powder and unknown supplements littered the corner to the left of the door. A lifting bench with barbells and several dumbbells took up most of the living room space. Gone were the family photos and the flat screen TV. Benny noted what looked like wet stains on the ceiling, there were more all over the floor. His nose twitched and he nearly recoiled upon realizing what the stains were-his dad’s cumshots. “What did you do to this place dad?” Benny asked, concerned. “Just moved some things here and there, the TV is in your room now and the pictures are well anywhere that isn’t my gym,” Big B said. The hulking dog walked over to the sofa and dropped his heavy frame on it. The poor sofa creaked and bended itself to support the dog’s weight. “I just can’t believe this. I go away for 2 semesters and-and you trash the house, and you turn into a muscle monster.” Benny started pacing while trying to avoid looking at his dad’s almost naked body. Big B scratched his bulge and replied, “Son relax. So your old man went to the gym and grew a bit. I thought you’d be proud of my gains. “ The two just looked at each other for a minute. Benny was still half dazed by what was going on and his dad didn’t seem to care. Even now when he was trying to have a serious conversation with his old man the Big B was bouncing his pecs with a cocky grin. “Dad…” Benny extended the word. “I need some rest. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow.” Benny made his way upstairs. “Sure son,” Big B said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Once inside his room, Benny dropped his backpack on the floor. His room was basically unchanged. His bed still faced perpendicular to the entrance with the TV now in front of the foot of his bed. To its right was his closet. The pup locked his room door and collapsed on his bed. He stared at the white ceiling wall and started thinking about his dad. The way he lifted him with such ease, the way his muscles smelt when he was pressed up against him. Covering his eyes with his right arm Benny unzipped his jeans to release his throbbing boner. Another trait he inherited from his father was a thick fat dick with huge swollen balls the size of golf balls. It paled in comparison to his father’s enlarged furhood now. All the questions were just a façade to hide his true feelings. He loved how his dad had grown so huge. He never told anyone before, but he was gay and his dad was now the fur of his dreams. Stroking his leaking cock, Benny imagined growing into his dad’s size as well. He imagined ripping through his clothes in public as his pecs balloon out and eventually blocking his view from the rest of the world. Benny moaned loudly. How he wanted his arms to expand and grow in strength so that he could lift an entire car with ease. Pre-cum continued to ooze from his dick, lubing the entire shaft. Then he would outgrow his dad and be able to pin him to the ground. He would then shove his giant dick between his dad’s hefty pecs and pec fuck him till he came. The last thought sent Benny over the edge causing him to blow his load all over his shirt and snout. “Fucking dad…” Benny whispered to himself. Stripping his shirt off, Benny sneaked out of his room not wanting to be seen. The bathroom was right beneath his room but he would have to go through the living room to get to it. Benny tip toed slowly, his tail was erect just to avoid making a sound with it dragging on the floor. As he was walking pass the hallway to the stairs he saw his dad’s wide black furred back facing him. His dad turned to the side to face the sofa and Benny saw him hold a vial full of glowing neon blue liquid. Benny crouched down to get a better look. He wondered what was that his dad had. Then the older dog downed the entire concoction without letting a single drop spill. Big B started staggering backwards with his arms locked into a boxer’s pose. He started growling and his entire body shook. Benny could not believe what he was seeing his dad’s entire body began to swell. His already huge pecs extended out further. Benny gasped as he saw his dad’s shoulders stretch further to the sides, he was wide enough to take up three quarters of the sofa. His arms ballooned up to the size of Benny’s head. Deep veins began to snake around Big B’s arms and legs. The change in height then soon followed slowly but it was very noticeable that the older dog was growing several inches taller with each passing second. “Argh…Must Grow! Bigger!” Big B said followed by a deep growl. The growing dog’s bulge began to grow as his enlarging dick grew harder. Big B’s jockstrap was beginning to rip at the seams struggling to contain the thick pole growing to the size of a traffic cone. With a guttural roar his dad’s cock fired its load, splattering the sofa with white spunk and the torn remains of what used to be his jockstrap. He cummed for what felt like minutes, completely covering the sofa with a new coat of paint. Finally when his orgasm completed the muscle bound dog just stood there panting heavily. Benny was feeling a mix of emotions at what he saw, awe, fear, lust, and disgust all at the same time. The young pup walked slowly downstairs never taking his eyes off his gargantuan father. As he approached he saw another change, that his dad was losing back his gained height. “D-ad? Are you ok?” Benny asked. “Son?” Big B was surprised by his son’s presence. He looked at his shirtless child and walked closer to the frightened pup. Towering above the smaller dog, his cock sprang to life, slapping against his hard abs with a wet thud. “You saw something you shouldn’t have boy,” he said menacingly. Benny gulped and thought to himself, what did he get himself into this time? Part 2 (copied from: https://sofurry.anthro.fr/stories/1416968) The sharp eardrum piercing ring of his alarm woke the young rottweiler from his sleep. Rays of sunshine broke through the curtain windows, illuminating his body. Benny's eyes fluttered open. He pulled himself up, and yawned. Benny's head felt like he was hit by a truck. He could not recall what happened last night. The dog blinked a few times as he looked at his legs. Wiggling his toes his brain suddenly realized he was in his red underwear. He scratched the back of his head and tried to recall what happened, he would never sleep in his underwear, but nothing came to him. "Ugh, stupid brain, maybe I'll remember after some breakfast." Benny walked down the stairs and from the corner of his eyes his saw the bruised purple arm of the living room sofa. The memories came flooding back, his naked dad, the growth, the cock, the sofa covered in cum! His heart raced and his crotch grew tighter in the front. Then he heard the unmistakable sounds of his dad snoring. Benny clutched his chest fur; did he dare to go see what had happened to his dad? He still couldn't figure out what happened last night. The pup took a deep breath and tiptoed down. Big B's massive feet came into view and the rest of his mammoth sized self. He was asleep on his belly giving Benny front row seat to his ample ass. His dad was still wearing the same jockstrap from yesterday, there were visible tears in the waistband of the jockstrap, the elastic was struggling to keep it together against the rottweiler's bulbous ass. "Fuck," Benny muttered under his breath. His underwear was getting tighter around his hard-on. Benny felt it hard to breathe, just looking at his dad's sleeping frame. Big B's traps was like a ravine made of muscles with deep cuts running down his back. His lats were as wide as his own shoulders. Benny couldn't stop his hands from trembling. Thump! Big B's left arm dropped onto the floor. The pup flinched and quickly tucked away his boner against the waistband of his underwear. His stomach was in knots. "D-dad?" Benny reached out with one hand and touched his dad's fallen arm, "Fuckin hell," Benny mouthed. His dad's biceps and triceps were hard as steel. With one hand he continued to squeeze his dad's bicep while the other ran along the back of his arm until he reached his dad's wide traps. He ran a finger along the deep groove of Big B's back. "Dad?" Benny called out softer. His mind was begging for his dad not to wake up. He wanted more time to explore his dad's body. Benny was about to reach for his dad's butt when a loud grunt from the front forced him to pull himself away. The sleeping mass of muscle began to move. Benny felt like he was shrinking as his dad rose up to a sitting position. His hefty shelf of a chest looked fuller and rounder than yesterday. There was now a thick vein running down his dad's right bicep and his abs were more defined than before. Benny flinched when he caught sight of his dad's dick standing erect against his abs. The member was pulsating with a slight blue hue hew near the tip like his dad's cock had bene building up cum for days. "Morning, son," Big B said followed by a deep yawn. He wet his lips and turned to face his dazzled son. Big B stood up to full height and stepped closer. "Umm," Benny's eyes were glued to the hard dick waving in front of his face. "Fuck, it's 10 already, you want anything to eat boy?" Big B asked. "Umm..." Benny could smell his dad's powerful musk radiating from his shaft. The scent radiating from his dad's dick was so pungent, so musky. Benny's tongue watered. He trembled as he tried to form the words in his mouth, "S-s-sausages?" Big B scratched his left pec, "Sausages, huh I did get a new pack of it a few days back. Anything else? The tagline just got to me, 'Every piece will stuff you good.'" His dad's cock twitched. Benny's eyes widened as the unmistakable glisten of pre emerged on the tip of the cock. "And.... some...some eggs." "Mmm, sausages and eggs. Classic," Big B said as he reached down and scratched his orange sized balls. Benny gulped. "Fuck, he's doing this on purpose isn't he?" "Aight kiddo, I'll make breakfast maybe you can handle mowing the lawn? I've been meaning to get to it for a while," Big B pat his son on the shoulders and walked off towards the kitchen, his erection still bobbing confidently. Benny breathed a sigh of relief and dissatisfaction. He had a feeling his dad was messing with him intentionally. Did it have something to do with last night? He wondered. Exhausted already the pup made his way back up and put on his sweat pants and red shirt before heading to the garage. "Woah." The garage was unrecognisable. There was no sight of the red sadan his dad used to own. In it's place was a few machines Benny didn't recognise but knew he saw some in the gym. With his little knowledge about gym equipment he could make out a dumbbell rack, and several piles of plates resting under a barbell bench. A small mountain pile of empty protein powder containers sat on what used to be the workbench for dad's tools. Sniffing the air, Benny's tail wagged excitedly. The garage smelt of his dad's sweat and cum. The pup dug through the workout equipment but he found no sign of the lawnmover. "Dad!" Benny yelled back towards the door. He heard a muffled grunt replying back to him. Curious, Benny walked back inside but his dad wasn't in the living room. The young rotteweiler smelt freshly cooked bacon coming from the kitchen. "Dad?" Again there was the muffled grunt but it was clearer. He followed the sound to the kitchen and he was taken aback by what he saw. His dad was standing butt naked facing the stove. Big B was panting heavily with one hand holding his massive dick, and the other held an empty cup right below his dickhead. Grunting loudly Big B's entire body tensed up. The older rotteweiler practically howled as he fired thick wads of cum into the cum, the cup overflowed and thick creamy semen dripped down the dog's fingers. "Fuck, too much!" Big B's cock was gushing like a geyser, even the gigantic muscle bound dog couldn;t control it. He placed the cup full of cum on the stove and was forced to unload on the empty frying pan in front of him. "Dad!" Benny called out loudly. 'Huh? Son?" Big B turned. For the first time the big dog blushed with embarassment, "What are you doing here?" he covered his crotch with his meaty hands. Benny had to avert his gaze. Blushing brightly Benny said, "I can't find our lawn mower! How am I supposed to mow the lawn?" "Oh, I forgot I sold it to our neighbour Bob a few months back, maybe you can ask him to lend it to us?" "Ok, just dad. Please put some clothes on." Benny walked out of the house as soon as he could. His heart was a mess. As he made his way to his neighbour's house he kept repeating to himself, "Don't think about it, don't think about it, it didn't happen!" Their neighbour's house was identical to theirs minus the unkept lawn. Benny took a minute as he stood in front of the neighbour's door. Just enough for him to let the bulge in his pants to settle down. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door. "Mr. Bob? Its me Big B's kid from next door. I have a favour I need to ask." The door swung open. A brown walrus stood in front of Benny in nothing but a tiny white towel. The cloth barely covered anything as an obvious outline of the walrus's tennis ball sized testicles, and his soft cock. "Mr... Bob?"Benny was dumbfounded, the Mr Bob he remembered was a chubby 50 year olf walrus no taller than Benny was, whom was balding by the day and had never worked out in his entire life. The guy standing in front of him was owning his baldness and was sporting a Richard moustache. One of the tusks on the walrus had broken off which added to his menacing look. His entire body was wide enough to block the entire doorway and he stood a good foot taller than the pup. Mr. Bob stepped out of the doorway and Benny was overwhelmed by the his neighbour's presence forcing him to take a step back. The walrus's keg sized gut and hefty pecs became more visible under the sunlight. His arms were cut like a diamond, with biceps and triceps bulging prominently and rippled with power. "Hey, kid, come on in and let's talk about that favour," Mr. Bob's voice was creamy smooth and deep. Benny then thought, "Why the heck is every senior in this town getting so big?" To be continued...

Preface Dear muscledrain, You wanted a magic switch of brains and brawn. I could have chosen to make the protagonist a black-metal kid called Moonsorrow Bloodpain, who invoked Cthulhu,* or something similar, to facilitate the magic, but then both himself and his recently muscular friend would eventually have been eaten by unnamable and eldritch primordial spacegods* of the elder days, and – as I understood your story idea – you expected something slightly more feelgood than that. But which sort of magic would be feelgood? Classical gods from Greece and Rome transforming mortal men is a story idea already used several times over at Metabods (Dionysus and Mars, if I remember correctly), so that idea was already taken. It then struck me, that some people out there IRL believe in a sort of magic Moonsorrow Bloodpain definitely would shun: Hoodoo – which is a mix of native Congolese religion, Protestantism, Dutch folklore, Catholicism (since the 1960’s) and slight traces of renaissance esotericism. It would probably be feelgood enough. But then another dilemma emerged: Which red-blooded, sports obsessed young male in a predominantly Agnostic environment would get the idea to even ask an eccentric and mysterious hoodoo lady for help? I then realised that bodybuilding and martial arts are very popular among young Syriac men, and that they – however laddish they are indeed – often have an honest respect for the saints. I have also observed that a lot of MMA fighters like to wear rosaries. Some of my former neighbours are Syriacs – very nice and friendly people with a flair for making good food. This is the way one of the protagonists was invented. I want to thank sithspawn, CardiMuscleman, mrk78, yourself, and some others for very valuable linguistic and stylistic advice. To write in a foreign language is full of potential errors. Any remaining errors are my own fault. Just as Northern Americans (and I don’t mean Canadians and Bahamians at the moment) let their Muscle Growth Stories take place in the US (or in a fictitious country identical to the US when it comes to educational system and cultural patterns, such as sports scholarships, pompoms, American football and resident colleges), I will, as a Swede, let the following story occur in a fictitious country with an educational system and cultural patterns indistinguishable from the Swedish ones: an academic year consisting of two semesters (not three terms), no school uniforms, pupils/students living at home with their parents at least until the age of 19, mixed social backgrounds at many (but not all) schools, and Agnostics observing Christian holidays. The difference between working class and middle class is probably more subtle and fluid over here than in other parts of the world – at least that was my impression on vacation in UK and Italy. The city in the story is, however, a city that never was. It will be futile, if any other Scandinavians reading this will try to figure out exactly where the story takes place: Everywhere and nowhere. The spelling of surnames have been anglicised. That wasn’t, however, necessary with the first names, which could pass for many nationalities just as they are. Comics readers: Look out for the easter egg. I hope you will have fun! Addenda * Long after writing this introduction, I actually wrote a horror story about Lovecraftesque forgotten eldritch primordial spacegods, called Professor Schnackenburg's mistake. With a little help from magic Chapter One The cold wind pushed the red and yellow leaves over the schoolyard with a rustling sound. The sky was steel-grey and unforgiving. Inside the brick-building housing the sixth-form school, lockers were clattering, and the sound of many voices blended into a tiresome murmur. Feet swiftly hurried to lecture rooms. John had put his rucksack in his locker, and was taking his chemistry book out, when he heard a disturbingly familiar voice behind him: ’Isn’t it Swotter? Oi! Swotter, I’m speaking to you!’ The eighteen-year-old closed the locker, and tried to look in another direction. Sometimes it worked. ’Look at me, when I’m talking to you!’ A hand on his shoulder. A foot behind his heel. Suddenly, John found himself on the floor and the chemistry book a few metres to the left, between another row of lockers. It was Peter and his friends. As usual. Peter and his little crowd of followers had made primary school, secondary school and the initial two years of sixth form a living hell for John, and there was no sign that anything would change, until John left for university in another city and Peter’s gang left school, most likely in order to face unemployment. Peter put his black cowboy boot on John’s chest. Like his chums, Peter had enthusiastically embraced the 50’s revival when it became fashionable, and they all tried really hard to look like exaggerated stereotypes of 50’s rockers. Most of them wore black leather jackets, unbleached denim jeans, and white T-shirts or plaid shirts, and they had put some gunk in their hair and combed it in a 1950’s style. Unlike some of his friends, Peter hadn’t been able to afford a leather jacket, so he wore a cheap denim jacket instead, and had sewn a Confederate flag on it, in the belief that ’that was very rock’n’roll’. ’Is that an army jersey, Swotter? Considering joining the forces?’ John felt embarrassed. If he kept silent, it would just go on. If he answered, the result would be identical. ’It is a hunter’s jersey.’ ’We didn’t know you were hunting! Did we, lads?’ ’I don’t, but I take photographs of rare birds. The jersey protects from cold weather.’ ’Scared of blood, I see. It wouldn’t be a good idea to join the army then? Would it, Swotter?’ ’I said it isn’t an army jersey. Ouch!’ Peter had moved his boot to John’s Adam’s apple. ’Listen very carefully. If I were you, I wouldn’t insult our brave boys in green by wearing that jersey, whatever you call it. Now take it off!’ ’But… Ouch!’ Peter increased the pressure on John’s Adam’s apple, then removed his foot, and came closer to John, sitting in a squatting position. Peter grabbed John’s jersey, and minuscule stains of spit rained on John’s face when Peter shouted. ’Now, you little pansy, you take that jersey off – either putting it in the cafeteria dust-bin or giving it to Anderson here. He deserves it better than you. Isn’t that right Anderson?’ Anderson, a blond football player, about the same height as John, but considerably more athletic, had been a henchman of Peter for years. He had a smug grin on his face. ’And what do you think you are doing, you friggin’ racist?’ Peter and his friends had to turn around. John rose from the floor, dusted away spots of sand from his clothes, and looked for his chemistry book. The newcomer who had spoken was Simon, the tall leftie intellectual from the other science class. Peter leered at him. It seemed that he had met Simon before. ’Don’t meddle, Simon. This isn’t your concern.’ ’Sure it is. Yesterday, you and your gang bullied Aram’s little brother and neighbour. But after what I can see today, you like to bully anyone, regardless of origin. Ridiculous greasers!’ John adjusted his eyeglasses, and now saw that Simon wasn’t alone. He had brought Aram, the brawny Syriac hockey guy, and Carl, the anti-racist skinhead, with him. Although Peter and his friends outnumbered Simon and his friends with five to three, Peter sized up his opponents a few seconds. Although not very muscular (but rather on the slim side), Simon was tall, and it was well-known at the school that he had practiced kung-fu, before his deep commitment in the Anarchist Student Society, Amnesty International, the local melocore club (and a handful of other associations) had limited the time available on exercise. Two years ago, Simon and John had served together in the Student Council, and John had appreciated Simon’s wit. Carl was shorter than Simon, but taller than Aram. He spent some time at the gym, but not as strictly and devotedly as Aram obviously did. His shaved head gave him an aggressive demeanour, and that impression was enhanced by the gauge in his earlobe, his snug fitting maroon polo shirt, the blue braces that contrasted well against the maroon background, the bleached jeans, and the extremely well-polished, heavy and steel-capped boots on his feet. His black Alpha bomber jacket was covered with patches and pins: ’Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice’, ’The Oppressed’, ’The Burial’, ’Operation Ivy’, ’FC St. Pauli’. He oozed of angry adolescent masculinity. Aram was of average height, but more broad-shouldered than any of the young men. He had an innately muscular constitution, and had been in good shape already during his time in the hockey team. When he left secondary school, and began his sixth form education, he had left the hockey team in order to take up martial arts of some sort, and also joined a gym. He now looked like a bodybuilder without any body fat, and moved like a tiger: A very broad shouldered tiger. During their entire time at school, Aram had always been so absorbed by exercise, that he never noticed if bullying occurred somewhere around him. If Aram had begun to spend time with a decent guy like Simon, it was probably a step in the right direction. After eyeing his opponents, Peter ordered his crowd to leave. ’Everything alright now?’, Simon asked. ’Yes. Thank you for helping me.’ ’To be honest, it was just a coincidence, but I am glad that we could be of assistance. Aram here is beginning to develop a social conscience by hanging with me and Carl, aren’t you?’ Aram mumbled something, and looked down into the floor. ’I’m late to the student newspaper meeting. Later.’ Simon disappeared around a corner. Carl had to leave his bomber jacket in his locker, and was on his way to a math lesson, but Aram was scheduled for the same chemistry class as John. They were late. ’You both know that late arrival will affect your grades. It will perhaps not concern you very much, John, but in your case, Aram, I would be worried.’ It was Mr. Gustavson, the chemistry teacher, known for his sardonic personality, and secretly nicknamed ’Snape’ among the students. ’As I said before you arrived, you have to team up in pairs and study how a primitive form of plastic is produced. It is a very simple example of how polymers behave.’ ’It seems like we have to lab together, today’, John said shyly. Aram didn’t speak very much while he assisted John, but, despite their late arrival, they were the first among the students to achieve a nice cylinder of plastic in a test tube in the end of the lesson. That gave Aram an idea. * * * It had been a few days earlier, during the Sunday church lunch at the Orthodox church of St. James’. ’Ameen. Moryo nqabel qurbonokh, wlan n’adar bashlawothokh.’ The last prayer in the extremely ancient Aramaic-speaking Christian liturgy ended, and the congregation left the room, kissing the Gospel Book at the entrance, and receiving pieces of non-consecrated bread. There were old ladies in mantillas, old men in their three-piece Sunday best, lots of parents with children, a dark-eyed and doe-eyed girl’s choir in choir dress, and a bunch of young men slightly younger or older than Aram. The last group was the most noisy one, and the lads were joking and playing with each other. Most of them wore jeans, expensive jerseys and shirts, but a few of the oldest ones wore suits, and some of the younger ones were dressed in tracksuit pants and hoodies. Most of them were dark haired and wore a lot of hair gel, but some were buzzcut, and two of them were redheaded. Many of them wore sturdy golden chains around their necks, from which crucifixes or the Syriac nationalist symbol of a feathered archer hang. Some of the attendees immediately left the parking lot, but most stayed inside for the Sunday church lunch. A buffet was prepared: Bulgur mixed with roasted noodles, tabbouleh – a salad of parsley, couscous, tomatoes, onions, garlic, mint leaves, lemon and olive oil – and several smaller bowls filled with falafel, dolma, chickpea sauce and eggplant sauce. Aram sat down with his mother, his uncle and his aunt. His mother was putting her folded mantilla in her purse, now when she no longer stood inside the consecrated room. ’Listen Aram’, uncle Benjamin began, ’there is a thing your mother and I have been talking about.’ Uh, uh. Now it comes again. Aram felt tired of this. His uncle meant well, but it felt like he was picking on him. ’Before your father died, I promised him, that I would help you become a doctor, just like your father and your grandfather. We have talked about this before: You have to achieve better grades, otherwise you will not be able to study medicine.’ A steel grey lady in her sixties approached the table. Mother and aunt Layla rose, gathered around her, and began to discuss with her in the old language. Aram wasn’t good at the old language. He was born in the new country, and spoke its language without any accent. ’Your mother and I are worried about you. The medical trade is a family tradition, but your grades have not been good the last years.’ ’But you are not a doctor. You own a grocery shop.’ ’This discussion is not about me, young man, but about you. If you begin medical studies, I promise to help you financially, but if you don’t, you can’t expect any money from me for university.’ * * * It was a day later. Aram and his girlfriend Emma entered the room for the history lesson. ’Hi, Emelie!’, Emma shouted, and claimed a chair close to her friend Emelie. Emma and Emelie didn’t at all have the same preferences when it came to style, but were friends anyhow. Emma was a blonde young woman with black high rise slim fit jeans and a yellow top which revealed some of her cleavage. Her shoes were yellow Converse. Emelie, on the other side, had dyed her hair black, and wore a black dress with a lot of lace. Around Emelie’s neck hang several pendants of different sorts: A cross, a star of David and a pentagram. She didn’t discriminate between religions, but it was also possible that she didn’t care very much for what the symbols signified to other people. Aram looked around, and when he found that the chair close to John was empty, he sat down beside John. ’Hello again. Do you mind if i sit here?’ They both unpacked their laptops, and had to end their chat, since their history teacher, Mr. Johanson, had begun to talk. Mr. Johanson was one of the oldest teachers at the school, and didn’t have many years left until retirement. He always wore black jeans, a sleeveless pullover and a tweed jacket. Unlike the younger male teachers, who dressed less strictly, he always had a tie knit around his neck. His hair was white and slightly receding. ’The world events of the 20th century, would probably had been very different, if World War One hadn’t occurred. The stern conditions of the peace treaty of 1919, caused many Germans and Austrians to feel disproportionally and unjustly punished, and that prepared the way for Hitler and the Second World War. For the British Empire, the end of the war initiated the slow devolvement of the empire: The Irish Free State was declared in 1922, and in 1931 dominions – such as Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Newfoundland, South Africa and the Irish Free State – were defined as ’completely self-governing’. Some sorts of constitutional reforms would probably have occurred in Russia anyhow, but not necessarily in the revolutionary Bolshevik way it now did: Don’t forget that the February Revolution in 1917 was about limiting the power of the Czar constitutionally, and preparing the way for free elections, general suffrage and civil liberties. The Bolsheviks didn’t grab the political power until October, and would probably not have reached the necessary level of initial popular support, if the Russian people hadn’t been exhausted by three years of warfare. The war also caused USA to change the way it behaved in international politics. During the 19th century the Monroe doctrine had isolated the US from international politics, but – with the exception of the Philippine-American War about a decade before World War One – the US had until then avoided entanglement in any conflict far beyond its own borders. From a certain point of view, the Philippine-American War and World War One, became templates for what later happened in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. The history of the 20th century is impossible to understand without World War One as the background. When we now begin to look closer…’ John felt good sitting so close to the big and warm lump of muscles. John hadn’t thought much about it before, but became now aware of the warm brown colour of Aram’s eyes, like brown gemstones reflecting a golden light. Aram emitted a nice scent of some sort of anti-perspirant, but probably not an expensive one. The presence of Aram made him feel comforted and protected. Aram had never or seldom preferred to sit beside John before, so this was something new. The lesson had ended. ’John, you are really smart. Would you possibly help me with homework? I want to get better test results, and who better than you?’ ’We could have begun this years ago, if you just had asked. Which day would be best for you? I often go by bus to Willow Lake in Thursdays. Wildlife photography, you know. And I suppose you exercise very often. Which day would be best for you?’ They agreed to keep Tuesdays open for study together. Emma approached them. ’You must hear this, Aram! Emelie has found such a cute shop with books and magic candles and stuff, and I could probably have my horoscope done. Isn’t it amazing? You must follow me and Emelie to that shop after school!’ * * * The following afternoon, Emelie, Emma and Aram got on the tram, and went to a picturesque part of the city Aram seldom visited. They left the tram at a stop just outside a Neo-gothic church building called Holy Trinity, and then followed a narrow and meandering, cobblestone paved alley on their way to the shop Emelie had mentioned. The houses were small and old here, but some of them seemed to have been restored recently, as an effect of ongoing gentrification. Withered roses and dark green ivy covered some of the exteriors. They passed by a tailor’s shop, a vegetarian restaurant, a dentist’s clinic and a former – now closed – bicycle workshop. A few of the buildings seemed to have been turned into homes very recently – which was easily recognised through the fresh plaster in yellow, lavender or dove blue colours, but other buildings were still shabby, some of them derelict. ’Here it is.’, Emelie announced. Aram got a first impression of the shop. He had definitely not seen it before. Grey stairs of stone led downwards to a door under street level. Two rather small shop-windows before his knees announced: Madame Cremorna. Books. Herbs. Readings. It felt a little bit spooky, but Emelie enthusiastically led them downstairs, and opened the door. A bell tinkled. The first thing that he noticed was the scent. The fragrance of many sorts of herbs and incenses mixed with each other. He felt awkward again. This wasn’t the sort of place a masculine guy like himself was expected to frequent. Wasn’t there something slightly feminine or gay about this scent? He considered to leave immediately, but that could make Emma mad at him. He didn’t want that. The second thing he noticed was the broad mix of things in the room. This was not just a book shop. The books were there, for sure – he saw a rotating stand with them: How To Earn Money By Positive Thinking. The Dolphins Speak: Telepathic Messages From Our Cousins In The Sea. The New Age Of The Flying Saucers. It could have been an ordinary New Age shop, but he could also see tin boxes with herbs, packets of soap or dry foodstuff with Spanish labels, shelves with incense sticks and small jars with the sort of incense grains he was able to recognise from church. His association to church was increased, when he found shelves carrying a large number of glass encased novena candles with stickers depicting saints. Some of them he could recognise, but, with his family background, he was more familiar with Eastern saints than Western, and the identity of some Western saints on the candles were undecipherable. The cash register stood upon a glass desk. Inside the desk he could see decks of cards in many shapes. He hadn’t seen any cards like these before. ’How do you play poker with these?’, he asked Emelie. ’They are not for poker, stupid.’, she answered, ’They are divination decks, for reading the future’. ’I am not sure I believe in that.’, Aram replied. Just now he wasn’t sure exactly what he believed. There was an eerie feeling in the shop. He wanted to get out. ’You are free to believe in anything you want. We are all responsible for how we use our freedom, and it is unwise to go against your own conscience.’ The alto voice vibrated with a rich timbre. It belonged to a woman in her early sixties. She had probably looked good during her younger days, and she obviously still cared about her appearance. Her hair was black, without any traces of silver in it yet, and she was dressed in a rust-coloured dress and a dark grey vest of wool. Around her neck hang a tin pendant depicting a very complicated geometrical pattern. In her younger days, she could have been a hippie. ’I’m sorry lady, but I can’t believe in telepathic dolphins and flying saucers.’ Aram waved in the direction of the rotating book stand. ’To be honest, I am not at all impressed by these books myself, but some of my customers ask for them, so I sell them. It pays the rent.’ There was a slight, possibly American-English, accent when she spoke, but very faint. ’So you don’t believe in the supernatural, yourself?’ ’Oh. I do! But that depends on what you call supernatural. If you mean telepathic dolphins, saucers, physical trolls or god-kings inside a hollow Earth, I do not believe in the supernatural.’ Emelie was studying the card decks inside the glass desk, but Emma stood by Aram’s side, hugging his arm. ’You are into sports, I suppose?’, the shop keeper asked him. ’Aram was a hockey player for many years.’, Emma answered proudly. ’And now I work out and practice martial arts.’, Aram continued. ’Then the psychology of sport can’t be unknown for you.’, Madame Cremorna said, ’And you surely must have experienced, how your own mind affects your physical achievements?’ ’Well. Yes. But that’s not supernatural.’ ’It is anyhow a part of scientific reality which borders to the supernatural – that is, supernatural in the sense I use the word.’ Aram was on his way to answer, but the shop keeper continued: ’And you belong perhaps to the Assyrian Church?’ Aram smiled: ’Close enough, but you were wrong there: I belong to the Syriac Orthodox Church. The Assyrians are our cousins.’ ’And you believe in God? And in angels? And in saints?’ ’Well. Yes, I do.’ ’The supernatural I believe in is about God, about angels, about saints, but also about sports psychology. It is admittedly not a complete description of what I do – far from it – but it seems like we are able to agree about a major part of it, anyhow.’ She was silent a few seconds. ’And what are you looking for? Books? Devotionals? Cards? A horoscope? Or do you want me to use magic for some purpose?’ ’We are just looking. Emelie told us about your shop, and it is just adorable’, Emma answered, ’but it looks much more Catholic than the other New Age shop on the other side the canal.’ Madame Cremorna smiled. ’It’s perhaps because it is not a New Age shop. Not in the general sense. It is inspired by botanicas of the sort common in Florida, where I grew up. We had a lot of Cubans and Puertoricans there.’ ’Have you lived in this part of the world for a long time?’ ’Quite a long time. Yes. My former boyfriend thought it was a good idea to move to Northern Europe a few years before the end of the Vietnam War.’ Emma continued to chat with the shop keeper for several minutes. Emelie still looked at the decks. Aram began to wander around in the shop. A square diagram with twenty-three arcane symbols hang on a wall. Bookshelves contained titles such as Three Books on Occult Philosophy, The Enchiridion, Selected prayers by Allan Kardec, and The Long-Lost Friend. A burgundy-coloured curtain covered door opening to an inner room. Curiously, Aram peeked inside. Several small tables were pushed up against the walls, covered with cloths in different colours. Candles were lit, scented in several different ways. The air was sweet and heavy. ’Uh oh. The inner sanctum is only open for some customers.’, Madame Cremorna said, where she stood behind his back. Aram blushed. ’I didn’t mean to do something wrong. Sorry, lady.’ When they left the shop, Emelie brought a recently bought tarot deck, and Emma carried a folder with her personal horoscope. * * * It was two days later. The bell tinkled in the usual way, when the door to the shop opened and closed. ’And what do you want, young man?’, she asked. ’I haven’t done well in my exams. I want to be sure my grades are good when I finish Sixth Form.’, Aram said. ’And when is that? If I hadn’t first met you with that young gothic girl and her friend, I would have guessed that you were older than a Sixth Form student.’ She eyed him knowingly. ’The last semester ends in June next year.’ Her face expressed mixed emotions: Pity, astonishment and a slight amount of aunt-like cunningness. ’Magic works normally through natural means, and natural means works slowly. A lesser working could have been enough, if you had asked me a year ago, and backed the magic up with real effort in class. But now, with just eight months…’ She didn’t end her sentence. There was a sad expression in Aram’s eyes, reminiscent of a very large, but very young and sad, puppy. The element of pity in Madame Cremorna’s eyes became more prominent. ’Let us discuss natural means first. You would probably learn more, if you do homework together with someone in your class, who’s got a talent for study.’ ’I already do.’ Aram told Madame Cremorna all about John. ’You have got a good new friend in him. Be nice to him.’, Madame Cremorna said. ’Homework with John helps, but not enough, and not fast enough. And I wish I could make mother and my uncle proud. But if you can’t help me…’ ’If something of what I do works, it is not because I have helped you, but because God has answered the prayers of several beings. Some call it magic, but ultimately all things and events comes from The Supreme Being anyhow. The ways and the means and the chains of events may vary, however. Or so is the way I see it.’ ’But you said, that I should have asked a year ago?’ ’I said, that a lesser working could have been enough then. With only eight months until graduation, I have to do a greater working, but only if you are ready to pay the price.’ ’I don’t own very much, but…’ ’I don’t talk about money. I talk about the willingness to choose talent for study before anything else. Wait. Don’t say anything yet. I will give you a reading.’ ’A reading?’ ’Just relax.’ She opened a purple bag of velvet, laid a pack of cards on the table, and mumbled a prayer. Aram couldn’t hear the words. She let him shuffle the cards, and then put three cards on the table cloth. The first card depicted a knight in armour, sitting on a horse. The second card depicted an old man with a beard, clothed in some sort of mediaeval brown gown, holding a staff with a snake – similar to the symbol sometimes used by hospitals and chemists – and holding a lantern in the other hand. By his feet lay a scythe and a hourglass. Far away, the presence of an owl could be distantly hinted at. The third card depicted a young man in renaissance clothes, carrying a round plate, smaller than a shield, but larger than a coin. From his bag a scroll and a quill pen peeked out. ’Hmm…’ Madame Cremorna didn’t say much for a while. Suddenly, she gathered all the cards into the deck again, and began shuffling. She laid the deck on the cloth, and pushed it over the table. ’Here. Shuffle, and think intensely about your friend John.’ Aram did what he was told to do, and gave her the deck again. ’That was all for today. Come back tomorrow afternoon, and I will tell you if I have found a way to help you.’ Aram felt a little bit disappointed. It had been stupid of him to come here, to begin with. He shrugged and left. When he had left, Madame Cremorna again lay three cards on the table. She was rather surprised to find the knight and the squire from the last reading come up again, but this time with reversed places: The squire with the plate to the left, and the knight with a sword to the right. The card in the middle was not the same. Where the card with the old bearded man had laid a few minutes ago, now lay a card depicting a half naked and extremely muscular man clothed in the skin rug of a lion. He had left his heavy club on the ground, and was breaking a stone pillar in two halves. Madame Cremorna remained almost expressionless, but one of her eyebrows twitched. She had got an idea. When Aram returned the next afternoon, he expected bad news. The shop keeper seemed, however, to be in a good mood, although perhaps mixed with an amount of harshness. She put two class encased candles on the desk. ’You are young. I will not let you pay the full price I charge an adult with full time salary. But you must be aware of the consequences of your request. Are you willing to let your friend become less talented, while you increase your own study results?’ ’Isn’t that black magic?’ Aram felt a chill on his back. He would probably not have asked for this, to begin with. ’I never accept black workings. I accept grey ones, however. Most human wishes rests in the grey area. The born-again nonconformist who prays to God for promotion at work, the churchman praying for a happy marriage, the white light Neo-pagan sending away a spell for fair weather at the picnic – all their wishes are tainted by a certain amount of selfishness. And so is yours. All of them are mixed with good intentions. And so is yours.’ ’But I can’t rob John of his intelligence. It is not fair.’ ’That depends. A greater working will affect reality on a deeper plane. In a sense, you will have switched – or better, mixed – destinies with each other. I have tried to conjure good destines over both of you, but you will still have to pay the price of tampering with destinies.’ ’Not my soul?’, Aram asked bleakly. ’Then I refuse.’ ’No, not your soul. I do not dabble in diabolism. Actually, I have fought against the minions of darkness on several occasions. But a greater working, affecting the threads of destiny, will take its toll from the one who ordered it, quite soon after the commencement. We are all responsible for our actions. Do you really want a talent for study?’ The question hung in the air for a moment. It cannot have been for a longer time than a second or two, but for Aram it felt like time stood still, like if a gigantic pendulum in an ancient clockwork was swinging over his head. It was still time to thank her for her willingness to help, but refuse to go further. ’Yes. I really want it. Just be sure that John will be happy.’ ’No-one can be one hundred percent sure, but I have reason to believe that he will enjoy the turn of events that will unfold, as well.’ ’Ooo-key? Well, then I suppose there will be no problem? What are the candles for?’ She pointed at one of the candles. It had a card on it, depicting a man in a bishop’s mitre, writing on parchment with a quill. He was surrounded by bookshelves. ’This is St. Isidore of Seville. You will take this home, and burn it nine consecutive Wednesdays until it is all burned away. St. Isidore wrote one of the first encyclopaedias in the world, and was recently designated the patron saint of internet.’ She pointed at the other candle. The card on it depicted a broad shouldered and bearded giant carrying the infant Jesus on his shoulder. ’This is St. Christopher. In the legend he was a giant who converted to Christianity. In reality, we don’t know very much about him, but the moral of the legend is edifying anyhow.’ ’What am I supposed to do with that candle?’ ’Give it to your friend John. If he don’t want to burn it every day or night, let him burn it whenever he likes. Tuesdays would be good, however.’ * * * It was Tuesday again. According to their new habit, John was helping Aram to study. ’And what am I supposed to do with this?’, John asked, curiously holding the glass encased prayer candle. ’You know that I am an Agnostic, don’t you?’ ’Some people burn it because they like how it looks or because they like the scent. It is just one month left until Advent, isn’t it?’ Shall I tell him about it? Aram thought intensely, and felt divided. To tell him the truth. But if he became angry and refused to help anymore at study time together? John was helpful. It would be awful if something terrible happened to him. But Madame Cremorna had said that he would enjoy what was happening, whatever that was. ’But isn’t it a little bit girlish, don’t you think?’ ’Not among my relatives. It is quite common that lads wear saint pendants, for instance.’ ’Yes. Now when you mention it, I have seen some of your martial art friends wearing rosaries, and I can’t accuse them for being girlish.’ The tension disappeared when Aram began to laugh. ’No, you can’t. At least not if you don’t take into account the time they spend in the bathroom, but so do I.’ ’Well, just as a sign of my gratitude for your gesture…’ John lit the candle, and then changed the subject. ’I have been thinking’, John said, ’about exercise.’ Aram was relieved that the subject had changed: ’What about exercise? You may be good at integral calculus and derivate – I have problem understanding what the bloody words mean – but I know a lot about exercise. Ask whatever you wish.’ ’To be honest: I think it is rather – ehrm.’ John’s cheeks and ears became more red than usual. ’I mean, I think it is cool to have muscles, even if it is hard to admit.’ ’It is not something to be shy about, little buddy. Many men like to be beefy. I guess most men would like to be built, even if not everyone like to admit it. Could you imagine Snape lifting weights?’ It was not only Aram’s joke about the acerbic chemistry teacher, but also his facial expression, which helped John to explode with laughter. It also shattered John’s embarrassment. ’Could you teach me how to work out at the gym, if I help you with homework?’ ’Fair enough. I sometimes feel stupid with you. At the gym I will be the teacher.’ Aram proudly flexed his right biceps, and felt cocky when he saw how John’s eyes involuntarily became wider. ’You like what you see?’ John suddenly looked shy again. Aram felt protective. John was so short and thin. ’Want to feel that bicep? Don’t be afraid. I’m not teasing you. It is fun for me to show my results.’ Shyly, John laid his palm over Aram’s biceps, and pressed carefully. ’Harder!’, Aram encouraged. John pressed harder. Aram’s biceps was of the size and density of a croquet-ball, and it rested on a really big triceps. John felt awkward again. His dick was growing and hardening. He sat down on the bed, and hoped that Aram hadn’t noticed. ’Which gym would be good for me?’ ’Why don’t you follow me to the one I workout at?’ ’Aren’t there a lot of big guys there? And doesn’t Peter and his crew hang out there?’ ’Peter is lazy at the gym, and I haven’t seen any of his friends there. Anderson is preoccupied with football, and the others spend their time with driving lessons, booze and grass. They aren’t very healthy, if you ask me. And I will be with you there. If Peter mess with you, I will have a serious conversation with him. He better stay away. The big guys at the gym are alright. Some of them like to give advice. Carl would probably join us at some times.’ * * * John stood before the desk at the gym, and felt shy. A very fit, but not gigantic, trainer manned the desk, dressed in a snug red T-shirt with the gym’s logotype on its chest. ’I’m waiting for a friend.’, John explained apologetically. He peeked into a folder about prices, and found a one-year membership mandatory. In September next year, he would most probably study at university in another city, and the last two months of a one-year membership would be wasted. Aram came in through the door, and began discussing membership and prices with the trainer and John, and, as a result, John got a deal, which meant, that he only had to pay for ten months. They entered the locker room, changed clothes, and Aram began to introduce John to the machines and weightroom. ’For anyone experienced, free weights are more important than machines. For a beginner, machines may have a purpose, especially for avoiding injuries. Look, for instance, on this one…’ One and a half hour later, John laid on the floor in the locker room. He had Aram’s towel under his head, and rested his legs on a bench, in order to let blood return to his head. He dripped of sweat, and felt nauseous. Aram returned from the loo with a paper towel dipped in cold water, and laid it on John’s forehead. ’I am sorry little buddy. I didn’t know where your limits were. I didn’t mean to exhaust you that much the first time.’ ’It’s not your fault. How could you know?’ * * * John and Aram had developed a habit of visiting Carl’s family on Sunday afternoons and evenings. Carl often spent Fridays and Saturdays with a bunch of SHARPs from the other side of the city, but Sundays were an opportunity for them to meet outside the gym and watch films together in Carl’s room. They all sat on Carl’s bed, with their backs against the wall. They had watched ’Captain America’ and ’Elysium’, and were now halfway into the Dwayne Johnson version of ’Hercules’. ’Look at all that muscle!’, Carl exclaimed impressed, for the third time during the evening. Aram poked him with his elbow: ’Do you know how gay you sound, Carl?’ ’Who you calling gay?’, Carl answered, and threw himself over Aram, playfully and boisterously tickling him. John bounced up in the air before landing back on the bedspread, but Aram and Carl fell to the floor, laughing and wrestling. It ended with Aram sitting on Carl’s back, holding his arm at an uncomfortable angle. * * * ’Grandmother arrives tomorrow. Will you eat dinner with the entire family?’, John’s mother – who worked with care of aged people – asked him the day before Halloween. ’I will stay home on All Saints, but Emelie has invited me to a Halloween party tomorrow night.’, John answered. ’I’m glad that you leave home more often, nowadays. But you know what grandmother will say.’ ’That borrowings of ghosts and pumpkins from the Americans will commercialise and destroy any decorous celebration of All Saints.’ John and his mother looked silently at each other with giddy looks, and both said in unison: ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ They laughed. John’s grandmother was not a particularly religious person, and, just as most of their relatives, she unreflectedly mixed Agnosticism with Lutheran Christianity, but she was fond of family traditions, and decorated her home zealously at Advent, Christmas, Easter, May Day and Midsummer, just as she had done as a young Mum in the 1960’s, and she enthusiastically invited friends and relatives to annual crayfish-parties and fermented-herring-dinners when summer turned into autumn. The recent introduction of masquerades at Halloween hadn’t found any approval from the old lady, since she thought that such merriment would distract from the solemn commemoration of the departed. She had decorated her own parents’ tomb today, before travelling to her only daughter and her family. Unlike most persons of her grandchildrens’ generation, his grandmother celebrated her nameday, and since her name was Inga-Birgitta, she celebrated both the seventh and the twenty-fifth of October. While Aram, Carl and John lived in council flats in grey five-storied concrete buildings built in the 1970’s (and Peter lived in a council flat from the late 1950s), Simon, Emma and Emelie lived in a residential garden suburb nearby, where hedges and fences kept one-family houses of mixed age (some of them as old as the 1920’s) apart. A very busy road marked the border between the two areas, but narrow asphalt-coated paths, for bicycles and pedestrians, ran in graffiti-painted tunnels under the road at two different points, connecting these two areas. John met Aram and Carl close to the nearby tunnel. John was dressed in a black suit he had bought half a year ago, when he attended the Confirmation of a cousin. John had put white theatre grease-paint in his face, and fastened vampire teeth on his eye-teeth. ’Greetings, children of the night!’ Aram and Carl smiled. Carl was dressed in camo trousers, but wore the same boots as usual. He was dressed in a black NATO jersey and some sort of combat harness. ’What is that supposed to mean, besides a soldier in general?’ ’Don’t you see? I’m G.I. Joe!’ ’I didn’t watch that film.’ ’You didn’t? It’s awesome! Let’s watch it on Sunday!’ Aram was green painted in his face, and dressed in a thick woolen overcoat. ’And you? That isn’t obvious… unless…’ Aram opened his coat. He didn’t wear any shirt, despite the cold autumnal weather. His entire torso was painted in bright green, and his trousers were purple. ’That’s hilarious! The Hulk! And it is convincing, too.’ ’You are much better than me with words, but I thank you for the compliments.’ ’Than I am’, John absentmindedly corrected Aram. The night was cold and filled with mist, but they found Emelie’s house without any problems. The house was full of very young adults, and it turned out that Emelie’s parents attended a dinner somewhere else that evening. The night went on rather well. The punchbowl probably contained something persons of their age weren’t officially supposed to drink for another two years, but, since the girls in Emelie’s circle of friends were well-behaved, and since most of the boys didn’t want to spoil the hard earned results of their physical exercise, utterly few of them drank too much. Emelie wasn’t known for having patience with fools, and had planned her guest list carefully, weeding out known drunkards. Parties with her classmates and parallel classes were otherwise known to be rather wet. Emelie had succeeded in her attempt to look like Morticia Adams. Emma was clothed in a furry pink rabbit suit, and only her face was visible. Several of the girls were dressed for an ordinary party, and qualified for a masquerade just by wearing pointy witches’ hats. John wasn’t the only vampire among the young men. A few of the guest looked like characters from animes or computer games. Emma seemed disappointed of Emelie’s choice of music: ’Emelie! Now we have listened to Fields of the Nephilim for half an hour. Don’t you have any tunes by Justin Bieber or One Direction?’ ’Are you kidding? Personally, I think it would spoil the Halloween mood, but if you wish to log into your own Spotify account, you are welcome to do so. You know where the computer is, but don’t expect me to tolerate your unbearable music for very long.’ On his way home, John felt awkward and slightly flattered. One of the lightbulbs had broken, and Emelie suffered from dizziness. She had asked John for help. When he stood at a chair, changing the lightbulb, his shirt had left the inside of his trousers and revealed his belly. Emelie had began to giggle nervously, and called after Emma. John didn’t understand why, and felt insulted. ’Please, John. Show us your abs again.’ ’My abs? What are you talking about? You know that I don’t…’ Giggling, Emelie had pinched the shirt fabric and revealed his abs again. His abs? He didn’t… He DID? ’Cool’, Emma said. ’Exercise suits you.’ * * * An Advent wreath stood on the kitchen table, burning with two lit candles and two unlit ones. It was dark outside the window, and, since the first snow had melted away, there was nothing to lighten the winter night up. John stood at a kitchen desk, taking notes of how much various foodstuffs weighed. That would simplify the composition of gym friendly recipes in the future. His mother entered the kitchen, and began to heat a small amount of mulled wine on the electric stove. ’I received phone calls from your chemistry teacher and your biology teacher today. Your physics teacher called yesterday.’ ’Yes?’ ’They are worried about you. Since you started two and a half year ago, they have regarded you as very talented in natural science, but recently your results have deteriorated. They wanted me to talk to you about it.’ ’Nothing is wrong. I just performed unusually bad in a couple of tests the last weeks.’ The mulled wine had reached a desired temperature. She poured some of the content in a mug. ’Do you want some? It is the soft drink version, so you don’t have to worry. It’s cold outside, so I needed something to drive away the chill in my bones.’ ’No, thanks. I avoid sugar as well.’ ’John, I don’t disapprove that you exercise. It seems to be healthy for you, and I am happy that you have a lot more friends now than you had before. But don’t you think you take it a little too far? Why don’t you play floorball or badminton, or jog or swim, or any other more normal sport? It can’t be good for you, to be so obsessed with what you eat. Are you going to eat like that way during Christmas as well? What will grandmother say?’ ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ ’This is not something to joke about. I’m afraid that your exercise will affect your school results. And I have read about body dysmorphia and eating disorders in the newspapers. Don’t you understand that I am worried about you? What will happen to your plans to become a physician, a biochemist or a physicist, if you let exercise distract you from studies?’ ’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!’, John shouted, left the kitchen, took his training bag and closed the door with a bang. His teenage anger went rampant through his mind and body: Thoughts going in a loop, his emotions boiling, his blood pressure pounding, his body temperature steaming. He loosened the wooly scarf and opened the closed zipper of his large jacket. The staff had left the gym, and the doors were closed, but members were given a key tag that unlocked the door at night. The scent of steel corroding under the influence of sweat. The scent of rubber mats. Furiously, he worked out in the almost empty gym: Only two or three other members exercised this late. It felt much better afterwards. The machines, the barbells, the dumbbells: They had helped him to release his irritation, and he now felt calm, content and harmonious. Freshly showered. Meanwhile he had been indoors at the gym, the temperature had dropped, and it had began to snow. The chill had some bite. On his way home, he unexpectedly met Carl, who was on his way home from something else: It had something to do with music. They talked. About parents and other things. Carl. Reliable Carl: Hard as nails, incredibly funny, and a kind friend to his friends. ’Ah. Come here, mate. It will be better tomorrow.’ They exchanged a hug. A brotherly hug. A rather long brotherly hug. Carl’s polo shirt was warm of his body heat. Carl’s glistening, black synthetic bomber jacket was cold of the winter temperatures. The scents from their different anti-perspirants mixed in the cool night air. A brotherly hug. Carl patted John at the back. ’It will probably be better tomorrow.’ * * * Emma sat in her sofa. Aram sat in the same armchair he had sat so many times before. A lit Advent star hung in the window, and spread a soft glow in the living room. From windows on the other side the street other electric Advent stars shone back. Emma was finishing her explanation: ’It isn’t you, it is me. I am not able to appreciate what you speak about. I miss the old Aram from when we first met: My teddy bear. My kind puppy with hockey butt. I am not interested in nuclear science, new medicines or what’s going on in parts of the world I don’t even know where they are. We have nothing in common anymore, if we ever had. I’m sorry. I like you as a friend, but …’ Her lip began to tremble. Aram hug her sadly, carefully and more softly than usual. ’I’m sorry, but I suppose that I understand…’ * * * Madame Cremorna had closed her shop at 7 p.m. as usual. Since the supermarkets kept open until 9 or 10 p.m. she had lots of time to buy the food and Christmas decorations necessary. She returned to her shop, in order to do some work. Supernatural work. She lived in an old-fashioned flat upstairs, which she had bought several years ago, before the prices had begun to rise ridiculously. Her phone rang. ’Madame Cremorna. … O hello Stephen! How is life in New York? I don’t even know what time it is in your time zone. … It is? … Aha. … A disturbance? … Oh, yes, I am up to a major working, but it is far from world-shattering, you know. Professional secrecy, so I can’t say anything, but I can assure you that it is just about the private life of two persons and their surroundings. It is not like I am about to open a gate for Dormammu or Nergal, if you know my drift. … Not funny? I see. … You are? London? Why? … But what brings you and John to this corner of the world? … No? You are kidding? … Yes, of course. Do you have any dietary restrictions before that working? … No. … No, it is no problem at all: I have a lot of vegetarian Christmas dishes. … Pardon? … No, it doesn’t surprise me that John isn’t picky. If he would like it, I could probably find a christmas pudding and a turkey for him God knows where, but you have to know that the locals prefer ham, meatballs, cabbage and vanilla rice pudding at this time of the year. And herring. Lots of herring. Remind me to put an ash tray in my living room while you stay. … Oh yes. … No, no problem at all. Take care, and give me a call when you think you will stop by.’ She hang up and washed her hands, first in running water and a non-perfumed soap, then in Florida Water. She sprinkled herself with holy water, went before her private shrine and lit both the altar candles and the incense. The air in the room felt thicker now, and the room felt connected to the rest of the world and to the unseen aspects of reality. Her highly trained senses could feel the presence of God, of spirits of many sorts, and of unseen subtle influences stretching themselves out from the room as a cobweb of spiritual light. ’Almighty and everlasting God, who harkened to the prayers of Moses in the wilderness, when he, assisted of Aaron and Hur, prayed for victory against the Amalekites, hear me…’ After a long prayer she stretched her hands out over fragments of candle wax she had removed from a candle, in order to fill it with scented oil. ’O God of my fathers, and Lord of Mercy, who hast made all things with thy word, and ordained man through thy wisdom, that he should have dominion over the creatures which thou hast made, and order the world according to equity and righteousness, and execute judgment with an upright heart: Give me wisdom, that sitteth by thy throne; and reject me not from among thy children…’ Then she did the same to fragments from another candle: ’It is God, that girdeth me with strength of war: and maketh my way perfect. He maketh my feet like harts’ feet: and setteth me up on high. He teacheth mine hands to fight: and mine arms shall break even a bow of steel…’ She had repeated this for weeks now. Divine Spirit was answering. The wheels of the invisible and incomprehensible world machinery turned, and unseen chains of causes and effects slowly turned the former reality into something slightly, slightly different. * * * Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7140-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-two/