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It was the first days of September, summer was giving way to fall, and the summer heat was still being felt, but already some of the trees began to change their green clothes for more ochre and copper. The fruits were ripening, and the harvests were about to start. The crops were coming to fruition while the students returned to the classrooms after a well-deserved vacation. Some were very anxious to go back to school, for they had just started a new period in their lives, such as starting college. Sabrina Spellman was one of those young women who, on this day, would enter the university that, fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, was close to her home. She chose this college because, apart from teaching the usual mortal subjects, it was indeed one of the country's few witches and wizard colleges (a fact unknown to most attendees), as well as the most prestigious. These were the main reasons her aunts were so insistent that she go. Sabrina finally agreed, because deep down she was very fond of them, which did not prevent her from deciding to rent an apartment to live alone, although she managed to do so after swearing a thousand times that she would visit them often. That morning she woke up excited, she didn't loll around in bed much after the alarm went off, she immediately went to get cleaned up, change her clothes, eat some breakfast, grab her backpack, and hit the streets with her skates like she used to do in high school. The area where the town was located was also on the outskirts of the city, but more populated than the neighborhood where she had grown up, with a few buildings here and there, the streets a little busier with passersby walking back and forth and cars following the same behavior. The witch moved briskly but smoothly through this influx of people and streets until she stopped at a small apartment building. She stopped before the door, pulled her cell phone from her backpack, and dialed a number. “Harvey, I'm here," she said, glancing at one of the floors above her, before hanging up and preparing to wait. Her dear friend had also decided to attend the same university as her, which made her overjoyed, it was always good to have a familiar face in new places. “Hello, Sabrina” greeted Harvey a few moments after he came downstairs after Sabrina had called him. He was carrying a skateboard and the backpack on his back, like the witch, a helmet protecting his head. “Ready for a new stage in our lives?” “More than ready, even eager," Sabrina replied, seeing the enthusiasm in her friend's eyes. "As far as I can tell, so are you.” Harvey smiled broadly before answering, "Of course, I want to try something I've wanted for a long time. “What is it?" Sabrina was curious. “You know that the college we're going to has a wrestling team, right?" the boy replied. "Well, I want to try out for it, today is the tryout.” Sabrina couldn't help but be concerned when she heard her friend's wish. Although he had grown a bit since high school, he was far from being considered a robust boy, he was rather thin, of average height. “Are you sure about that," she said worriedly. "Don't you think you should wait a bit, maybe gain some more muscle?” “Ha, don't worry about it," Harvey interrupted her. "I've been training during this vacation and eating an egg-based diet to gain muscle mass, I'm not so weak anymore.” Sabrina's heart shrank when she saw her friend's practically nonexistent biceps when he flexed one of his arms. “Well, if you say so," she continued. “Also," he added, "I bought an amulet to bring me luck. Look, it has a rabbit's foot, a lucky stone, and a feather.” Sabrina knew very well that those amulets sold among humans were completely devoid of magical power, so her worries only increased, but she did not say anything, she did not want to hurt her friend's feelings. “Well, we're late, we'd better go to college," she said trying to change the subject, luckily Harvey agreed, so they both left immediately, she with her skates, he with his skateboard. The trip was not very long, just a few minutes, both of them gliding smoothly through the streets of the city, slipping between the morning passersby, the wheels making a soft sound as they rolled on the asphalt and sidewalks, until they stopped in front of the university gates. The university had a conservative architecture, similar to traditional New England’s one: a rectangular nave formed the main building, with two rectangular extensions, perpendicular to the ends of the nave. Several towers, crowned with pyramidal roofs decorated with pennants and spires, rose imposingly in the center. A large window with exquisite stained glass welcomed students and faculty, and below it was the great gate. Sabrina and Harvey said their goodbyes at the gate and went to their respective classes for the day, meeting again in the afternoon at the indoor stadium where the wrestling team tryouts would be held. It was almost 3:00 p.m. when the selection process began. A few spectators were sitting in the stands, all eager to either see their friends or just to have a good time and have some fun, Sabrina was as close to the field as possible to get a good view of Harvey. On the track were the coach and the competitors of the moment. Harvey told her he would be the fifth match of the evening, so she waited patiently at her post, flanked by two other people. She may have been the only one cheering for Harvey as he entered, not so for his opponent, who from a distance looked much stronger than her dear friend. No sooner had the fight begun that Harvey, who had moved quickly toward his opponent, ended up on the ground, crushed by the other boy, with little chance of escaping the confinement in which the other boy had trapped him. He tried to use some of the techniques he had learned, but to no avail, the other boy did not move an inch, on the contrary, he used more force in his grip. Harvey's face turned red from the effort, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, he clenched his teeth tightly, tried to anchor his feet to the floor and push himself up, and tried to force with his arms, but it was useless. “One!" the referee announced. Harvey redoubled his efforts. “Two!" he continued. Tears of helplessness threatened to fall from his eyes. “Three!" Harvey already knew he had lost, but he still tried to pull away from his opponent. “Four! We have a winner!" the referee shouted, a chorus of cheers rang out from the stands, Sabrina remained silent, her gaze fixed on Harvey who was still lying on the floor, tears running freely down his face. “Cry outside this ring," the trainer shouted at Harvey. “I don't understand," Harvey said as he stood up. "What did I do wrong? I trained; I ate eggs..." “Some people just aren't cut out for this," the trainer cut him off. You could see that he was holding back a smile, which those who had already been selected and some of the audience were not doing at all "Some are just good at being simple tadpoles.” “You should have been called Shrimpzilla," he openly mocked his former opponent, and the stadium burst into laughter. "Really, Harvzilla? Have you ever looked in a mirror?” Harvey couldn't stand the humiliation any longer and ran out of the stadium, his hands covering his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide the tears of shame. Sabrina immediately got up from her seat and ran after him, trying to comfort him. The rest of the day was just as sad, and it didn't take long for the news to spread like wildfire among the students, Shrimpzilla's nickname flooding the hallways and social networking sites themselves. “I'm done," Harvey said, his eyes downcast as he played with the spoon of his favorite ice cream that Sabrina had given him to cheer him up. “Maybe you can do it later, maybe if you concentrate better and...” “No, Sabrina," Harvey cut her off, his brow furrowed, gripping the spoon tightly. "It's like they say, I'm not good at it.” Sabrina debated what to say next, it hurt her soul to see her friend in that state. It was no less true that his small and thin frame would have to work hard to achieve his goal of becoming a wrestler. Maybe if he got a little help, things would be different. That night, she lay on the bed, pensive. She couldn't stop thinking about how she could help her friend. “If only she could use the Spookypot” she whispered to herself, but not so quietly that Salem, who was lying on the mattress next to her, would not hear her. “What are you going to do now, Sabrina?" the talking black cat asked as he stretched out. “Harvey wanted to join the wrestling team, but due to his constitution it was impossible for him, plus he's the laughing stock of the entire university because of his terrible match," the witch explained. Salem could not contain himself and a laugh escaped his lips, but he quickly controlled himself after Sabrina's curious look. "Don't take me wrong, but I don't need to be an expert to know that he's not fit for that, he's too small!” “I know," Sabrina snorted. "I'd like to help him anyway, but isn't there a spell or something to make a person stronger?” “Of course there must be," replied the cat. "But I don't know any, not even your aunts.” “I doubt they would help me anyway," Sabrina admitted. “But I know someone who will," the cat smiled. “Really, who?” Sabrina's eyes lit up. “A magical newt who lives in the basement of your old house," the cat replied. “There is a newt under my aunt's house," Sabrina was puzzled, "how come I never knew that? “Even your aunts don't know," Salem admitted, putting his paw to his head in embarrassment. "It's something only he and I know, we have... an agreement.” “Well, I don't care what you do or don't do in your private life. You introduce me to him the next time we go home," seeing that her problems were probably solved, Sabrina turned off the light and closed her eyes with a smile on her face. A week later, Sabrina and Salem visited her aunts, who greeted them enthusiastically. After a round of questions about how she was doing in school and some lunch, Sabrina and Salem went downstairs to the basement, taking advantage of a moment when her aunts were distracted. It was like any other basement, dark, dusty, with even more cobwebs than in the entrance of the house, full of old things that had not been used for a long time, but were probably kept there for their possible "usefulness". “Newton!" called Salem as he put his paws on the basement floor, immediately a small but male voice answered from somewhere in the basement. “What do you want?" the voice replied. "You haven't been here for a while.” “That's right, I don't even live here anymore," Salem laughed. "I came to ask you something.” “Oh, that's very strange of you.” “Well, it's not exactly for me," Salem and Sabrina walked slowly through the basement towards the place where the voice came from. “It’s for my friend Sabrina Spellman.” “Spellman," the tone of his voice took on shades of terror by the time both Salem and Sabrina had reached their interlocutor, a small blue-green newt, lacking one of its eyes, a patch covering it. He wore a small conical blue hat, with a few yellow stars, and a red tunic “Did you bring me a witch?” “Easy” Salem tried to calm him down, in fact, he had to stop him because he was already in a race to get out of there. “How can I be calm when you brought me a witch?" the newt kept shouting from the paw Salem had trapped him in. “Oh, don't worry, I didn't come here to hurt you," Sabrina approached Salem and the newt with a comforting smile on her face. "I just came to ask you a favor.” “I won't give you my other eye," the amphibian cried as it wriggled in the cat's paw in an attempt to escape. “Why would I want your eye," Sabrina was a little confused. “Isn't it obvious," Newton asked. "Don't you know that the eye of a newt is a popular ingredient in witches' potions?” Sabrina was about to say something else but decided to remain silent for a moment because the newt was right, she only had to look in her potion book to realize that most of the recipes contained this ingredient. “Well, I didn't come here for that," the witch finally said. "But for you to help me with a friend of mine. The newt seemed to calm down a bit after hearing Sabrina's words, so Salem decided to put him back on the table where they had found him, which resembled a small miniature laboratory, with various flasks and liquids of different colors bubbling due to the heat they were exposed to or the chemical reactions they were experimenting with. “You see," Sabrina continued. "There's a friend of mine who wants to be bigger and stronger..." “Oh, is that all?" interrupted Newton. "Don't worry, I have what your friend needs.” He immediately began to search his downsized laboratory. He rummaged through every inch of it, the shelves, the corners, the trunks until he finally came upon a red clay jar sealed with a cork. “Let me just pour some of this into a perfume bottle," the newt said as he tweaked the knob with his tweezers. "This is very concentrated and, therefore very strong. If you use it once, it will be enough.” He took a perfume button he found in a corner of the lab and poured a small amount of the greenish liquid that was in the bottle into the flask, later he gave the perfume flask to Sabrina. She thanked him and they both said goodbye. Harvey was still depressed about the embarrassment he had suffered the previous week during tryouts for the wrestling team. Sabrina found him sitting on a bench, his head resting on the table in front of him and his arms outstretched. “Hi, Harvey," Sabrina greeted enthusiastically when she found her friend. “Hi, Sabrina," Harvey replied quietly and without much enthusiasm. “I have good news for you," Sabrina continued, not letting her friend's long face affect her in the least. She was carrying the potion Newton had given her in her backpack. Harvey only raised his head slightly in response to what Sabrina said. “Oh, come on, cheer up a little," Sabrina said as she sat down next to Harvey and searched her backpack for the bottle. “How can I do that if I can't fulfill one of my dreams”, Harvey said with some annoyance. “On that note," Sabrina finally pulled the vial of potion out of her backpack. "I think I can help you. I'm going to put some of this lucky perfume on you and you'll see how much better everything gets.” “Sabrina, please," Harvey didn't believe Sabrina's words at all. "Even if it works, the tests are over, there's no way I can get in.” “You may be right," Sabrina said. "But you don't lose anything by trying, maybe you can get in next year or next semester.” Harvey thought carefully, Sabrina was right, he had nothing to lose. “Okay, I accept, just for you," she decided and with that Sabrina sprayed some of the perfume on Harvey's body. A greenish vapor rose a few centimeters from Harvey's head, the strange thing was that the top looked like the head of a dragon. This immediately descended onto the boy's body, which glowed with a faint green light, Harvey's eyes staring at an undefined point in space, as if he were in some sort of trance, only to have a slight green flash appear in his irises. Harvey straightened up completely in his seat, his muscles tense, then relaxed, then tense again. With each passing second, he gave the impression that his sweater was getting tighter and tighter around Harvey's body. His usual slender build took on a bit of toning, even a seductive outline of his chest was sketched under his clothing, not to mention the sleeves were filled with the new thickness of his arms. Harvey smiled mischievously at this slight growth, even flexing one of his arms and enjoying the feeling of constriction as his sweater struggled with the new dimensions of his body. “Pfff," someone behind him snorted. "What the hell are you doing, Shrimpzilla? Harvey turned his eyes to where the taunt came from. There he saw the boy he had fought last week. His brow furrowed in anger. He abruptly rose from his seat and moved to confront him. Sabrina tried to stop him, but just as he was about to utter a few words, Harvey grabbed the other boy around the waist with both arms, lifted him with his weight, bent his lower back backward, and slammed the boy to the ground. He immediately lunged at him and grabbed him with a good hold. The boy tried to break free, but Harvey's grip was quite strong, as was his new body. The coach of the wrestling team happened to be passing by at the time, so he had a chance to watch the fight. He saw the boy struggling with all his might to get free, just as Harvey was holding him almost immobile with little apparent effort. When he saw the boy indicate that he was going to give up. He walked over to where they were standing and announced that Harvey was now part of the college wrestling team, which of course pleased both Sabrina and Harvey. The magic of the potion affected not only Harvey but also the amulet he was wearing. Despite what Sabrina thought, the amulet did have some magical power, very little, almost invisible, but with the influx of magic from the potion, it was activated and a new entity began to brew within it, a consciousness that would gain more power and influence over the boy as the days went by. Despite the strength he gained from the potion, Harvey remained small and scrawny compared to the other members of the wrestling team, so the coach himself put him on a strict training and diet regimen: he had to train in the gym for at least an hour every day. At first, as expected, it consisted of full-body workouts without much weight to avoid injury. Then there were the drills in which Harvey gradually learned different fighting techniques. “More” a month had passed since Harvey had joined the wrestling team, and every morning he woke up and heard the word in his head. It sounded like a whisper, like the words of someone far away or behind an extremely thick wall. He didn't think much of it, he took it as his determination to gain more strength, something that was already well on its way. The roar of his stomach was the third (after the alarm and that voice) thing he heard in the morning. He'd been eating a lot lately; the training sessions had left him exhausted and his body was demanding nutrients to grow. He had already gained quite a bit of muscle mass in that one month, but he was still at light weight. Even so, he didn't overlook his athletic image in the mirror: those toned arms, his firm (though still small) pecs, those three pairs of abs over his belly, his broad shoulders, and those round buttocks supported by a pair of strong legs. “More, much more” he heard that voice again, and he agreed, it was still not strong enough. So, he helped himself to a hearty breakfast, the equivalent of two people's ration. After finishing, he went to the university, as usual, with his friend. Harvey's physique wasn't the only thing that changed after Sabrina poured that perfume on him. Harvey began to become more distant, arrogant, selfish, and violent. It didn't help that he started using steroids. After a month of training with the rest of the wrestling team, Harvey realized that his teammates were using these supplements to increase their performance. At another time, he would have refused to use them outright, but that insidious voice in his head convinced him to use them. “More, stronger, you must be stronger," the reptilian voice in his head kept repeating. "Use whatever it takes to get there. The reflection of each morning in his mirror pushed him more to obey the designs of that voice. He saw the changes day after day, his arms thickened, his chest bulging, his back wider, his legs stronger, and even some veins were outlined on his arms. The first doses were administered by his classmates, but it wasn't long before he learned to administer the doses himself. The injection hurt, but that pain quickly turned to bliss as soon as he loaded the weights. He had become addicted to the feeling of power, of pushing his muscles to the limit with each repetition, of seeing his reflection in the gym mirrors as he did each exercise, flexing his muscles, watching the veins carry precious oxygen to his ever-growing muscles, the sweat pooling on his t-shirt, moistening his skin, making it glisten under the light of the lamps. It was extremely orgasmic, in fact, from each session he always had to have a moment alone to release all the sexual tension that built up with each workout, first with the classic method, but as he acquired a more impressive body, it was common that he always found someone willing to "help" him. Sabrina was not unaware of her boyfriend's increasingly radical changes. She hardly spoke to him anymore, they no longer went to school together, and he was always asleep after all the wild parties he had started to attend. Besides, it scared her. Harvey had turned into a monster. He had already witnessed several moments when he had mistreated other students, it was with people who weren't very cordial or nice, so she didn't make a big deal out of it, once in a while you had to know how to put said riffraff in their place. But it didn't take long for him to do the same, or worse, to other students: from hurtful words and insults to more physical violence, to blackmail or extortion. Harvey had become a kind of master to serve, where everyone was his servant. “Is it normal for a person's behavior to change after using the potion," Sabrina asked Newton one day. “It depends," replied the newt, without looking up from some experiments he was doing. "It is very rare that an adult suffers changes, a teenager on the other hand...". “Well, he is 18 years old...” “What do you mean 18 years old?" the newt shouted, almost spilling the substance he was working with on the floor. "There are still some growth and sex hormones acting in his body, maybe not like in real adolescence, but it's dangerous to link that with the potion.” Sabrina didn't say another word, her face had tightened in a mixture of embarrassment and fear. “You only used it once, didn’t you?" the newt asked. “Yes, only once," Sabrina replied. “Then there shouldn't be any more problems, it will calm down eventually," said the newt and went back to his work. "Keep it somewhere safe and out of reach anyway.” “Understood," Sabrina smiled, relieved. It had been three months since Harvey joined the wrestling team. He was already a middleweight, he had to change his entire wardrobe because his clothes were already too small for him, he was already wearing a size M, with a tendency to be a little tight (not that he minded, he loved showing off his body). His routine had changed almost completely: he got up extremely late because he spent most of the night at parties with his new friends, he barely attended classes, he spent more time at the gym working out, he didn't care much about homework, he'd gotten an entourage of privileged students to do it for him in exchange for not bothering them too much, and he even let them enjoy the occasional hot nights with him. He tended to force them to satisfy his sexual needs, although perhaps due to the mixture of hormones and magic in his body at the time, his "mistresses" eventually gave in completely and became mere bitches, eager for Harvey to bend them over. Perhaps because of the enormous amounts of energy he was expending during the day due to his increasingly long workouts, Harvey also began consuming energy drinks. At first, it was only while he was in the gym, but later he added more cans throughout the day, almost completely replacing water. There were times when he would drink an entire bottle in one gulp, and contrary to what others thought, he had no trouble sleeping. Between the training and his accelerated metabolism, plus the magical influence of the amulet, his body easily processed all the energizing drinks. It helped him concentrate on each of his exercises at the gym and kept him a little calmer for the rest of the day. Another habit he developed during these months was smoking. It was unexpected, but, likely, the Dragon's influence that developed in the amulet during those months influenced this new vice. During one of the many parties he attended, he used an electronic cigarette for the first time. The moment the smoke reached his lungs, something inside him was activated. Perhaps the smoke and taste connected him to memories of the natural habitat of the creature that was developing in his mind, a habitat near volcanoes or other places where there were constant fumes, the fact is that he was instantly turned on. Harvey would start his day with a cigarette in his mouth, he would go out on the balcony of his apartment and vape a little, then another little when he arrived at the university, another one during lunch, another one after his training sessions with the wrestling team and at the gym, the last one just before going to bed. “That’s it, give up your personality and become more like me. You have to be strong, intimidating, dominant, a king,” whispered the voice in his head every time he put his electronic cigarette to his lips and inhaled the vapors, every time he injected his dose of steroids or threw someone against the lockers or intimidated them with his threatening look. “That's right Harvey... no, Harvzilla,” the reptilian voice corrected,” You're not like the others, you're better, you're someone superior, almost a god, the others need to know where they belong.” Harvey smiled evilly at these words as he extorted a few dollars from a nobody to buy some protein bars, his stomach wouldn't stop growling, but he knew the reason, he was still gaining weight, and he wanted to make it to heavyweight by the end of the semester. “Why settle for so little?" the voice asked "You can get bigger.” “That's right," Harvey whispered. "I need to be bigger. “A titan,” the voice suggested. “A god," Harvey corrected. The voice did not answer, just laughed at how much it had corrupted the young man's soul. It was no surprise to anyone when Harvey showed up at school with a nose ring piercing. He had done it one weekend in the interest of completely shedding the good boy image (which he had already achieved with all the pounds of muscle he had put on in the past few months, plus this radical change in attitude), although it was no less true that he now had a more animalistic, brutal, threatening air about him. The student body was divided between those who praised him (and sometimes not-so-secretly desired him) and those who felt intimidated. The new Harvey liked both sides. The mid-semester competitions were coming up. Harvey was selected to compete in the middleweight division due to his outstanding performance. A crowd, both from the university itself and from the other participants, gathered at the stadium to watch the various bouts that would take place that day, which began in the afternoon after most classes were over. Harvey was in the locker room, sitting on a bench, holding his amulet. He was fully dressed in his team's uniform, and in a few minutes, it would be his turn to go out into the stadium and fight his opponent. His heart was pounding in his broad chest with excitement, rising and falling with every breath, pressing his skin against the tight latex fabric. “I have to win," Harvey muttered between his teeth. He was convinced that he would, few people dared to face him after he had acquired that ominous physique, but even so, that voice in his head, from his old self, reminded him of all those insecurities from before he joined the wrestling team. “You just have to get stronger," the dragon's voice suggested. "The strongest always wins.” “How?” Harvey asked, he could already hear the call from the audience to enter the ring, his turn was about to begin. “Search for the potion," the voice replied. "The one that unleashed your transformation. You will become even stronger if you take it again, you will be unstoppable.” “Yes," Harvey agreed. "I must find that potion, I must become stronger.” Harvey got up from the bench and left the lockers in the direction of the school to look for Sabrina's locker, something told him that what he was looking for was there. Luckily it wasn't very far, he would be back immediately and before they declared defeat for non-participation. The corridors were deserted, everyone, or at least most of them, were at the stadium watching the fights, and those who weren't were probably at home or in the library. Harvey went straight to Sabrina's locker, as expected, it was locked, but that didn't discourage him, on the contrary, he threw himself sideways against the door, his developed shoulder hitting the metal door hard and it wasn't long before it bent a little, he threw himself at it again, it bent more, again it was open enough to rummage inside and look for the flask. It didn't take long to find it. It was amazing how much he had grown, the flask looked so small in his huge hands... Harvey sprayed some of the contents over his body, inhaled the scent, and felt the first hit. He thought again and decided to open the lid and pour the entire contents on himself. The moment the liquid touched his skin, his nerves sent waves of pleasure to his brain, his muscles tensed, and his heart sent greater amounts of blood to them. “That's it, grow," the reptile's voice said. A green glow enveloped Harvey's body as he writhed in pain and pleasure. He grunted like an animal as his muscles exploded in size, his skin gradually becoming drier and thicker as small scales began to cover it, scales that were purple at first, but quickly gave way to a more greenish color. His ears grew and became pointed, and his pupils contracted vertically, giving him a more reptilian appearance. His torso expanded with each inhalation, centimeter by centimeter, his shoulders growing farther apart and at the same time bulging and rounding with the muscle that was constantly being added. His trapezius became more prominent, almost turning into a pair of mountains that temporarily blocked his head until his neck grew enough (both in length and width) to move freely again. His Adam's apple grew so much that the growls Harvey emitted began to sound more like roars, so intense that the crystals began to shake. The arms wasted no time in growing to a size proportional to the shoulders. They became as thick as a grown man's leg, with prominent veins adorning their surface, sending enough oxygen and nutrients to make them grow even larger. Each muscle became perfectly defined: the biceps looked like the tops of two mountains when the arms were flexed, the forearms large enough to hide the presence of the bones beneath with their magnificence. The hands grew considerably larger, to the point where they could completely encircle a person's head. The fingers also grew thicker, as did the claws that grew from their tips, where nails previously were, which were so sharp they could easily cut through steel. Deep valleys formed in Harvey's back as he gained more muscle mass. His deltoids expanded to such an extent that it quickly began to look more like a palace wall than a simple back. It took a while for the fabric of the uniform to give way due to its elastic nature, but thanks to the continued growth of his pecs, dozens of tears began to appear in his suit. His chest had grown so large that they threatened to block their view, they were so large that even his new oversized hands could not encompass a single one of his pecs, and even his nipples were forced to almost look down due to the incredible amount of muscle his pecs had gained. His abdominal muscles did not waste any time either, the little fat that remained on them was quickly consumed and transformed into pure muscle, eight bricks as strong as titanium alloy appeared under the monstrous breasts. The legs were next to grow, first in length, then, almost immediately, in width. His glutes became rounder and firmer with the perfect arrangement of fat and muscle. His quads exploded in size; it was very likely that he would have to walk with his legs slightly apart as the muscles came to touch at the crotch. Like his forearms, his calves grew so large that any hint of goosebumps disappeared. Finally, his feet grew rapidly, causing them to feel trapped in the shoes that protected them, but not for long, as the toes immediately cut through the socks and rubber of the shoes with the help of the claws that had also grown to replace the nails. “Harvzilla, Harvzilla," shouted the crowd in the stadium. Harvey heard these shouts and followed in their footsteps, unaware that the effects of the perfume were still upon him. Each step he took added an inch to his height, his teeth became sharp as daggers, and a pair of horny bumps began to grow on his forehead, plus a few small ones along the edge of his jaw. Just above his buttocks, another bulge began to grow. Centimeter by centimeter, this structure pressed against the remains of his briefs: bones, muscles, and nerve endings grew under the skin of the nascent appendage, and it wasn't long before Harvey could move it from side to side as he walked. Harvey had to start bending his back as his horns began to hit the roof of the school. His face had stretched forward, his human features completely replaced by those of a dragon. Two types of scales covered his body: larger, plate-like ones on the ventral part of his torso and tail, of a lighter green, almost white, and another one spread over the rest of his body, of a darker green and smaller in size, but no less resistant than the previous ones. A scream of horror flooded the room where the contestants, judges, and spectators were as they saw this reptilian monster emerge from under the door, well, more than emerge, walk through it. Harvey had grown so large that he could not fit through the doors in the normal way, both his width and height were too large to fit through a normal door. “Weren't you here to see me?" Harvey asked, pieces of brick falling from his shoulders to the floor. His voice had grown low, more like a roar than a human voice. No one answered, everyone was too scared to think of anything but running. They all crowded into the emergency exit, pushing and shoving each other in desperation. The only one still on the bleachers was Sabrina, who, no matter how much Harvey had changed in these months, remained his friend. “Harvey, what happened to you?" she shouted, but her scream was drowned out by the roar of the dragon-turned-human as it clawed at the roof of the stadium, trying to get out. Harvzilla had reached the impressive height of 10 meters and it didn't look like she was going to stop. Perhaps it was the new height he had reached, but the Herculean proportions he had acquired a few moments before had completely disappeared. Harvey looked more like a giant Asian dragon than a human, his body was cylindrical, with hardly any difference between his shoulders and waist. His hind legs looked short compared to the rest of his body, a ridge of horny spines had extended down the centerline of his back to his tail, which ended in a huge tuft of hair the same color as the hair on his head. Harvzilla scanned the horizon for a few moments before lifting one paw over the walls of the building that housed the wrestling match she was about to enter. With clumsy, heavy steps, he moved across the university campus, leaving deep pentad footprints and a trail of destruction and terror in his wake. He walked without stopping to think of the poor people beneath his feet, not of the gardens, benches or cars he destroyed on his way. Sabrina finally made it out of the stadium. She had to summon a broom to fly out of the place. At that moment, she didn't care about keeping a low profile in front of the mortals; besides, they were too busy running for their lives to notice if an 18-year-old girl was flying over their heads on a broom. As he made his way across campus, he watched as some of the professors in the Magic Department tried to stop the dragon's advance, but to no avail; for some reason, spells and incantations did not affect Harvey. “I have to get to my aunts’ house right away and try to fix this mess," the little witch muttered to herself as her broom flew across the city at full speed. “More” Harvzilla roared in his seemingly aimless progress through the city. His mind had slowed down, only a few thoughts were contained in this moment, and most of them had to do with being even bigger and more powerful. Cars stopped as drivers saw the reptilian creature approaching, many crashed into each other and were engulfed in flames, others, less fortunate, were thrown somewhere as they were struck by Harvzilla's long tail. Whole houses collapsed completely; buildings were heavily damaged. Neither the fire department nor the police could keep up with the exponentially growing number of incidents in the neighborhood. The screams and desperate cries of the people were drowned out by the periodic roars of the dragon as it sniffed the air from time to time as if searching for something. There were times when it would lean over a house, lift it as if it were a doll's house, and inspect it, oblivious to the screams of terror from the tenants. “Perfume... I need perfume," the beast struggled to articulate, its mouth still unaccustomed to the new anatomy. Sabrina quickly flew to her aunts' house. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she suddenly opened the door and ran out without paying much attention to her aunts, who were astonished by the unexpected visit of their niece. “Sabrina, what is the purpose of this visit?" asked Zelda, her eyes following Sabrina's figure as she opened the door to the basement and disappeared as quickly as she had come in. “I have a problem to solve," the echo of Sabrina's voice answered her as she ran down the stairs to the basement. “What have you done now, Sabrina?" asked her Aunt Hilda, but before Sabrina could answer, the news came from the television that a giant dragon was ravaging the suburbs of the city, near the university. Both aunts decided to go down to the basement to find out more details about what was going on, only to find their niece screaming for someone. “Newton, I need your help," called Sabrina. “Who is Newton?" asked Hilda. “A newt that lives in the basement,” Sabrina replied, still looking for the little one-eyed amphibian. “A newt lives in our basement?" said Zelda in surprise. “It's a long story, but, yes," Salem's voice appeared out of nowhere to answer the question. “And where did you come from?" the aunts were startled. “I'm a cat, appearing out of nowhere is our specialty," the cat joked. “Now you can explain to me what three witches are doing in my basement," Newton's voice was heard. “Newton," Sabrina exclaimed as soon as she heard it. "I'm so glad I found you! I desperately need your help, Harvey, the friend I used the potion you gave me, has turned into a giant dragon and is destroying the town.” “Is that monster Harvey?” Zelda put her hands to her cheeks in shock. “Sabrina, do you have any idea what you just did?" Hilda reprimanded her. “Hilda, you can punish me for all eternity if you want, but now we have to solve this situation," Sabrina didn't take her eyes off the pensive newt. “Dragons are powerful beings, it is very likely that this boy is now under the influence of the creature he has become," the newt replied. "There is little we can do for him, the only thing I can think of is to get rid of what is left of the potion and that you try to get to the bottom of his being and bring him back.” “I'll try," Sabrina replied determinedly. "Then let's get rid of the potion before it does any more damage.” An earth tremor stopped them just as they were about to pour the potion down the drain. The five people gathered in the basement froze, knowing what was going on out there. “Do you, aunts, know any spells against dragons?" asked Sabrina. “Dragons are very powerful beings whose magic is even more powerful than that of most witches and wizards today," Zelda replied. “I'm afraid not, Sabrina, our magic isn't even enough to tickle them," Hilda added. “That must be why the wizards at the university had such a hard time stopping him," Sabrina mused. A rumbling sound silenced the familiar chatter. Those present heard the walls of the house creak and crackle as a force was applied to them. They saw the walls buckle periodically from one side to the other and even heard cracks appear in the walls and other structures. “This is it," Salem said, still shivering. The warmth of the house was invaded by the cold night air, the moon appeared just above their heads, but its argent light was eclipsed by the titanic shadow of a monstrous lizard watching them closely. Strong gusts of air hit them as Harvzilla began sniffing around the cellar in search of the potion, a process that did not take long as the bottle containing it was tucked away in a corner of the newt's miniature laboratory. Without delay, the titanic reptile thrust one of its paws into the cellar, intent on taking the precious liquid. No one moved to stop it, for all were terrified, watching as the reptile lifted and then pulled the bottle, which looked so small between its claws, but was careful not to break it. “Sabrina," the newt managed to articulate, "as far as I can see, the boy is still in the early stages of transformation. Developmentally speaking, he's still just a baby dragon.” “What does that mean, Newton?" asked Sabrina, not taking her eyes off her best friend. “If you can reach him, talk to him, make him remember his human form, maybe he can return to normal," Newton replied. "That is all you can do, as your aunts said, there are hardly any wizards powerful enough to fight a dragon. Even if it is a baby like this one, the magical power these creatures possess is incredible.” Sabrina nodded at the talking amphibian's words, then gathered all her willpower, raised her arm horizontally to chest height, and summoned her broom, which immediately came out of the room. Sabrina grabbed it and mounted it, then gave a little jump and flew up to Harvey's eye level, who was already about to pour the magic substance on him. “Harvey, stop," Sabrina shouted with all her might for the monster to hear her. With apparent success, Harvzilla stopped for a few moments and focused his gaze on the witch hovering in front of him. It was almost as if he was looking at an insect. “Harvey, have you even seen what you've become?" Sabrina continued, her eyes reflecting concern and pleading. "You weren't like this, you were a good boy, kind, sweet, and you cared about others.” Harvzilla continued to watch without even blinking. Sabrina took this to mean that her words were having an effect, that she might be getting somewhere with her friend, which made her smile a faint smile of hope. So, she did not get discouraged, but just as she was about to continue her speech, Harzilla emptied the entire contents over his snout, which, due to a problem of proportions, hardly looked like he was pouring a drop on himself. But it was enough to make his brain work faster. As Newton had said, Harvey had been turned into a kind of baby dragon, so his intellectual abilities were partially diminished, but with this new influx of magic, his intellect returned, even increased. “I'm sorry, Sabrina," Harvzilla's voice was as deep as the crater of a volcano, his breath burning like fire. "But I'm not going back to being the pathetic creature I was before. Not when I have this power.” Harvzilla did a double biceps pose, showing off his arm muscles. “No, I will definitely not go back to being human, on the contrary, I will embrace this new dragon body and bring it to its maximum splendor," Harvzilla continued, at that moment he began to move his arms in the air and Sabrina could see how magical energy began to escape from his hands. “Oh gods, he has gained power over her magical abilities," exclaimed Newton. "We are lost.” “Harvey, what are you doing?" cried Sabrina in horror. “That amount was minuscule, I need more," Harvey replied. “But you don't know how to make it.” “Ha, Sabrina, I have enough capacity right now to make more potion, enough to become the most powerful dragon that has ever lived in this world. I can even make it better,” Harvzilla boasted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, you're in the way.” With that, he shoved Sabrina away with his paw, just like shooing away an insect. Sabrina was able to regain control of the broom and was unharmed, but it was clear that there was nothing she could do for her friend but watch helplessly as events unfolded. “Well, first I need a cauldron to make the potion," Harvzilla said with a wave of his paws, causing the ground in front of him to eject pieces of rock and houses into the air, which began to swirl around a center in front of Harvzilla. Gradually, the pieces of rock and debris began to collide and coalesce, slowly forming what looked like a giant cauldron. “Good, now, some fire,” with another gesture, Harvzilla had several entire trees uprooted and placed under the cauldron, and with the help of his fiery breath, he set the fire ablaze. People fled in terror as hundreds of objects flew through the air above their heads as Harvzilla gathered more materials. Screams flooded the area. “Oh, shut up already," Harvzilla roared, slapping the ground with his huge tail, the roar echoing through the city and instantly silencing the terrified people, "Don't force me to take you as a snack, so many transformations in one day have made me hungry.” No one said a word or made the slightest sound when they heard these words. “That's the way I like it, insects, be quiet and let me become what I am truly meant to be.” The water pipes ruptured and burst through the whole thing to the surface, their contents floating directly into the cauldron until it was almost filled. After that, almost industrial quantities of certain drugs shot out of the pharmacies (and some people) and fell into the water, which was slowly heating up in the fire of hundreds of trees. “Heh, heh, my addition to the formula, steroids, the more the better," Harvzilla laughed, "I'm also going to add something to make it work only on me, I have no interest in fighting anyone else who accidentally gets exposed to this treat.” Harvzilla used one of his paw claws to cut the flesh of the other one to draw out the blood, which fell into the cauldron and gradually mixed into the potion. To this, he added other elements such as sweat, bull's horn powder, his own scales, lion's mane hair, rhinoceros’ horn, oak leaves, and a little Amanita muscaria. Gradually, the concoction began to change color and smell. Harvzilla smiled slightly as he realized his potion was almost ready. After half an hour of preparation, the potion was ready. The greenish substance still bubbled in the makeshift cauldron, its vapors slowly rising into the air. Harvzilla took a deep sniff, letting those vapors stimulate every millimeter of his nostrils, traveling down his very long windpipe and filling his lungs as its magical properties began to take effect, but not content with just sniffing his handiwork, he grabbed the cauldron with his paws and lifted it over his head with one smooth motion, then poured it all over his head. The still-boiling mixture completely bathed his body from head to toe, seeping through his scales and soaking the ground beneath his legs. Enjoying the intense heat, Harvzilla closed his eyes and waited for the potion to take effect. It didn't take long for the potion to take effect, especially with the immense amount and concentration of it. An intense greenish glow covered his body. Harvzilla closed his eyes tightly and arched his back slightly, his body feeling as if an intense fire was burning inside of him, the fire enlivening every cell. “Yes," Harvzilla murmured. "This was what I needed, this power.” The first thing to be affected in his body were his bones, creaking as they lengthened, especially those in his legs, which had become very short concerning his body with the last transformation. Harvzilla groaned as his lower limbs grew longer and longer, his legs also growing in unison, pushing everything around him due to the force of his growth. “This is not enough, I need more," Harvzilla growled. Next to be affected was his torso, which flattened out dorsoventrally, while his shoulder blades and pelvic girdle widened, especially the shoulder blades, gradually giving his body a V-shape. Then his facial features hardened, his jaw became square and strong, and the upper part of his eye sockets became protruding, giving him an ever more serious and intimidating scowl. The horns on his head doubled in length, adding more ramifications to the antlers, while the number of spines bordering his jaw increased in number, some adding a few inches to their length, a pair of whiskers emerged from his snout and slowly descended until they reached the height of his chest. On his shoulders and back, countless spikes appeared, sharp as blades and almost blackish green. “Yes, more," Harvzilla roared, his brain completely intoxicated by the pleasure of his transformation. His muscles tensed again, his veins bursting at the seams, dilated to get as much oxygen and nutrients to his growing muscles as possible. His neck was the first to be affected by the new wave of growth, his Adam's apple becoming even more prominent, irrevocably turning his voice into a mighty thunder that roared with the fury of a storm. Then it was his shoulders that added more and more mass, rounding out, increasing the width of his shoulders while the trapezoids rose like mountains. His chest, flat as a board a few moments ago, began to gain some definition as hints of pectorals appeared beneath his scaly skin. Gradually, they began to take shape, taking on their characteristic four-sidedness, later gaining mass and protruding forward. They grew in both width and thickness, so much muscle mass had they acquired that their nipples began to practically point downward, looking like a pair of pillows to lean back against. Next were his abs, which quickly came to the surface, growing and hardening into three pairs of bricks as hard as titanium. Then his back, already broad, widened even more, becoming an impenetrable wall covered with sharp spikes and decorated with deep valleys where the muscles were inserted. Then came the buttocks, rounded with the perfect mixture of fat and muscle, upon which rested the ominous tail, waving back and forth, destroying any building within its reach. Finally, the limbs exploded with titanic strength, the veins running through them like mighty rivers of vital fluid. His biceps were the size of a small car, his claws powerful, capable of bending steel itself as if it were the finest paper. His legs became as strong as pillars, with mighty quadriceps and spherical calves. To put the icing on the cake, a trail of spikes grew over his torso resembling what it would have been body hair, from his groin to his huge pecs, where it covered almost the entire surface. Some spikes also grew over his forearms and legs. Once the transformation was complete, Harvzilla roared with satisfaction, a roar that echoed in the distant mountains and struck fear into the hearts of thousands of people nearby. He was so big that the skyscrapers in the center of the city looked like toys compared to him. The titanic dragon took his time inspecting his tale, enjoying every muscle, every valley, every scale, every hair, running his paws over every inch of his being, even tasting himself with his now very long tongue. “Finally," the dragon thundered. "This is the body a god like me deserves. No one will dare challenge me; everyone will have to worship me and pray that I will be kind to them and not destroy their pathetic lives.” With that, he swung his paws in the air again. The ground in front of him suddenly rose like a small elevation, but it didn't take long for it to change its appearance and resemble a seat, a throne. Harvzilla prepared to sit on it, in front of him hundreds of people, so small compared to him, ran from one place to another, always casting a glance at the colossus in front of them, waiting for what might happen, Harvzilla on the other hand just watched, enjoying the terror he inspired and thinking about what he would do from now on. Nayar Leng

MadMutter's Thicker than Water by Scarletic Table of Contents Chapter 1: Of Funerals and Vacations Chapter 2: Two Sides of a Coin Chapter 3: Night at the Museum Chapter 4A: It Came From... Chapter 4B: What Happens in the Dark Chapter 5: This Tall to Ride Chapter 6: Homecoming Kings Chapter 7: Max Occupancy Chapter 8: They Might Be Giants 1 Of Funerals and Vacations When Jolias’ grandmother passed away, he didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation to claim his inheritance. It was, after all, free money. Along with whatever fabulous goodies she’d set aside for him. Suddenly having enough rent for the next few months, especially when he needed two part-time jobs to make ends meet, was a no-brainer decision. Chicago wasn’t exactly the most affordable place to be living in, he’d realized. He wasn’t sure when he was — or if he was ever — going to return to Peru, but metaphorically looting his dead caregiver’s corpse wasn’t on his list of reasons why. The four years he’d been gone had done away with any memories of home. Names stuck, like his hometown of Copacabana at Lake Titicaca, but visuals and everyday details were gone, shelved away, and left to be forgotten. He’d even managed to scrape his tongue clean of the accent. Only the fear of meeting his parents again, of reliving the trauma they’d put him through, of remembering why it was he left Peru in the first place, haunted him. He wasn’t too fond of how he couldn’t have his new self-appointed name on his passport — Jolias Castor. Instead, it read like a tongue-twister, one that no one in the USA ever dared to attempt: Julias Castillo-Moreno. Next to it, his often-called “face of an angel,” with his rich coffee skin, button nose, and unkempt black hair. He preferred it messy. It distinguished him from the rest. The only person who’d ever gotten his name right (and on the first try) was his best friend. A fellow homosexual and expat from Germany, Maxwell Voigt was only two years older at 24 and working part-time as a café barista. They were close, met at the local pride parade, and kept in contact ever since. It was almost a match made in heaven. Almost. That was the important bit. Jolias couldn’t reciprocate Max’s attraction. Not when the latter was adamant about refusing to stick to the personalized workout routine Jolias had made for him. It was a struggle on both their parts, coming to terms with the other’s shortcomings. But it passed, as all things do. Jolias stuck to the gym where he worked part-time and built himself up to a nice 151 pounds at his humble 5-foot-6. Max, on the other hand, didn’t mind the extra bit of blubber on his 5-foot-11 frame, putting him at a not-as-solid 216 pounds. In his head, it made him look cuddlier, more touchable, something he wished Jolias wasn’t so averse to. Nevertheless, Max welcomed the chance to take a vacation to South America at Jolias’ behest. They both wanted company, each other’s specifically, even if it were for different reasons. The Economy section they’d been shoved in for seven hours wasn’t ideal, especially not when the crying children and obnoxious tourists seemed unable to shut their damn mouths. Jolias and Max rejoiced at the stop-over in Colombia, a momentary respite from their overpriced hell. Max wiped the sweat from his brow as he took in the spacious interior of the Jose Maria Cordova international airport. “I didn’t know it was already going to be so hot.” The cafeteria was packed with enough plant pots to outnumber their plane’s passengers, and the arched glass ceiling didn’t make the air any cooler. “Are you sure we didn’t book a trip to the desert?” “Sweating already?” Jolias sniggered as he whipped out his phone. 22°C. “It’s just a few degrees off Chicago’s usual. Probably just feels hotter because of the humidity.” Max let out a huff. “Or maybe it’s because you’re here.” “Ha-ha.” Jolias lifted both their carry-ons as they made their way out of the airport. Each bag was nearly the size of his whole torso, but he held them with an ease and grace Max knew he could never muster. “Just don’t make those same jokes when you meet my parents,” Jolias said. “You may be a cute boy-next-door, but they’re not going to be so nice when they know you’re gay too.” Max nodded, tugging and fanning himself with the now-wrinkled collar of his shirt. “I won’t. I told you.” “We’ll just be there for the celebration, then take the money, and then we head back before they even realize we’re gone.” As they breached through the glass doors and stepped onto the driveway, the inflamed white flare of the sun was an unwelcome heat lamp that stung on Max’s skin and burned through his glasses. “I wouldn’t mind if we headed back now, actually. You didn’t tell me it was going to be so hot,” Max said. “I don’t even think I packed my graded glasses with me.” “Get a grip, Germany. You’ve got that Übermensch legacy to live up to. We aren’t even in Peru yet. We are literally at the tip of the iceberg of South America.” Jolias stopped and spun on his heel, holding out Max’s overstuffed satchel in one hand. “Though if you carry your own bag the rest of the way, I won’t stop you from complaining.” Max let out a sigh and — with great apprehension — took his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He may have been pudgy, but the broadness of his shoulders still stretched further than his love handles. “Fine. I just hope you know you’re missing out on a quality workout.” “Please. My bag is more than enough weight. I doubt your chips and extra clothes are going to be much of a challenge if you don’t start stuffing that thing with rocks.” Jolias quickened his pace, smiling to himself as he watched Max drag behind him. Max, already catching his breath, made a light sprint to catch up. “That depends on what kinds of rocks we’ll find. Where are we going again? This stop-over is only for a few hours, you know.” “It’s a place one of my clients recommended. Guatapé, I think. Said it’s full of lakes and rivers. Might be your kind of place since you used to be a swimmer.” Max groaned. “Key phrase is ‘used to be.’ Is there anything else I’m supposed to be excited for?” Jolias winked over his shoulder. “Stairs. I know you love ‘em. 740 steps’ worth.” “Oh, my god.” Lifting his head up, Max opened his mouth and faced the clear blue sky, eyes shut in defeat. “This trip is going to be the death of me.” “My grandmother’s, actually.” Jolias pressed Max’s jaw shut against his skull. “And close your mouth. You’re going to let the flies in.” ◊ ◊ ◊ Max had always known South Americans weren’t the tallest people around, but it was a tad unnerving to see so many eyes needing to look up to meet his gaze. It was always either the women or Jolias, never the men — especially not all of them at once. He found comfort in the few caucasian tourists who didn’t make him feel quite so large, so obtrusive. The track he and Jolias trekked on was a long, winding dirt path that twisted and cut into the hillside. They were surrounded by enough palm trees to make New York’s Central Park a flower garden in comparison. Blades of grass crunched under his boots as he followed Jolias to the mountainous rock a few kilometers away, tucked in the heart of a tourist village perched next to a crystalline lake of sapphire blue. If he hadn’t known what Germany looked like, he might’ve confused Guatapé for paradise — only several degrees hotter. Max ran his fingers through his mocha hair, twirling each dried-out strand in his fingers. He thought if he’d rubbed them hard enough, they’d ignite like tinder. “Hey, are you sure we have to climb up that thing?” he asked, pointing at the hill in the distance, decorated on one side with a devilish flight of stairs. “I don’t have an insurance plan.” Jolias, once again holding both carry-on bags (as Max handed it back at some point during the minibus ride), sniggered. “What did I say about complaining? You’ll be fine.” “Just because I’m German doesn’t mean I descended from Nordic gods. If I die, I die.” “Then I guess I get the full share of my inheritance. I’ll send your landlord my regards.” “Can’t I just stay down in that town where it’s safe?” Max fanned himself with a small banana leaf he’d picked up somewhere along the trail. “A swim in that lake sounds really good right now.” He scanned his gray shirt, now darkened with sweat on his chest and armpits. “Plus, I think I need to change into something a bit darker. I’m sweating like a priest at a schoolhouse.” Jolias lightly flicked him on the nose. “I warned you about the exercise. You’re either coming up there with me and taking my photos or losing your mortgage. Pick your poison.” The rocks rolled to the side as he kicked them aside with every step. “You are evil. Fine. But if I pass out halfway up, you better throw me in that lake.” Jolias looked back at his best friend and patted him on the shoulder, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight and his smile curved into a mischievous little wrinkle. “I can do that, yeah. I deadlift your weight for fun. I just hope you aren’t afraid of heights.” Max gulped, much to Jolias’ amusement. “Don’t worry. Once we get our photos, we’ll take a nice dip in the lagoon. We’ve still got a few more hours of sun to kill before we have to get back for our flight. Marco’s going to murder me if we aren’t at Lima by tonight.” Max’s face melted into worry, the smile he’d been propping up disappearing at the mention. Marco. ◊ ◊ ◊ In all the years he’d spent part-timing as an accountant and personal trainer in Chicago, Jolias never got around to appreciating Lake Michigan. It was clean. It was large. But there was always something about the concrete jungle that wrapped around it and blotted the horizon that didn’t sit too well with him; at first, he thought it was the color gray he didn’t like. Then, he figured it was the noise and smog of the city. In the back of his mind, it might have even been the people who died trying to swim in it. He refused to accept that he may have just missed the green of his homeland. Standing at the top of the rock (not quite a hill) that towered over Guatapé and taking in the magnificence of natural South America for the first time in years, Jolias found himself floating — the tropical scent of jungle mildew wafting in the breeze, the twinkle of the golden sun on the winding lakes. For a moment, albeit brief, he felt relief. From the stresses of monthly rent, of clients, of seeing his family again. If there was any silver lining, it was the chance to reconnect with nature. And, perhaps, his twin brother. “This is so much better than the city.” Jolias leaned against the railing overlooking the town and pristine lake below, letting the cool air brush through his hair. “Are you going to let me take your photo yet or what?” Max said, shivering. “These old people are pestering me.” Jolias’ face read almost absent, immersed in the serenity of nature, of his home. He turned and rested his back and elbows against the rusted blue fence, facing the glare of the sun head-on and smiling for Max. The way he stood caused his developed chest to protrude from his paper-thin dri-fit shirt, stirring his #1 admirer’s senses almost manipulatively well. “I hate it when you smile at me like that,” Max groaned. Jolias preened at the mention. “I can’t help it. God-given looks and all that.” Max took his photos of Jolias, and Jolias of Max. They’d barely been out of the USA for half a day, and, already, Max was beginning to roast from the heat, donning a light pink instead of his usual snow-white skin. “I really should’ve put on more sunblock.” Jolias tugged Max’s wrist and led him back down the 740-step staircase. “You could use the tan. Now come on. Let’s go for a dip. I’m itching to get wet.” Max, picking up his own carry-on from the ground (passed back at some point in the climb), sighed. His nether region was getting uncomfortably tight. His six-incher wasn’t exactly petite. “Way ahead of you there.” ◊ ◊ ◊ The two walked along the tourist-made path that shot through the forest-canopied expanse of lakes. Even without the bird’s eye view, it was a postcard-worthy hike. Max had never experienced nature to this extent before. He’d been born in the city, raised in it, and believed — though prematurely — that he would never get to see a forest in person, to live out his childhood fantasy of a log cabin in the woods. Pure isolation from the needless bustle of everyday life. Of living in a society he never chose, never belonged in. It was something he was reminded of whenever he was with Jolias. That same familiar longing. Being with him felt like that to Max: living in a log cabin. A place to call home. Someone whose fire kept him warm when the winter nights were coldest. Even as he lagged behind his fit friend’s impossibly athletic pace, he couldn’t help but admire the way he seemed to glow amid the rays of light that pierced through the trees. He moved as a nymph would, back where he belonged. “This is a lot more beautiful than my desktop wallpaper makes these types of places out to be,” Max said, picking a hot pink flower from a low tree branch. He loved the way it looked. And he loved the way Jolias looked. From behind, especially. “Wait! Slow down.” Jolias turned on his heel and lowered both their carry-ons. “What now? Are you going to offer to carry your bag again before giving it back?” He pushed his hair back and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Max caught up and stopped inches away from Jolias. “I wouldn’t think of it.” They could smell each other’s musk, the other man’s sweat, the perfume of their breath. They were both shirtless. With a gentle hand, Max took Jolias’ hair and tucked the flower on the valley of his ear. “Not when you look like an angel.” Blushing, Jolias covered his face with a vacant hand. “You’re so damn flirty.” Readjusting his shorts, he lifted both their bags and continued his trek. “Come on. That cave you saw is just around the corner here.” “Right behind you.” Max and Jolias turned the corner and stared at the perfectly circular maw of what looked like a chute built into the cliffside. The inside was damp and lined with gray clay. Water still fed into it from the river, but where it went, neither man could tell: the stream disappeared into the darkness of the earth, echoing despite its silence. It looked larger from where he’d seen it going down the stairs of that vantage rock, Max thought. Up close, the hole was going to be a tight squeeze for a man his size. He envied Jolias sometimes. Tight spaces weren’t exactly his comfort zone. Jolias ran a hand across its surface, letting the clear waters run through his fingers before they disappeared down the hole. “It’s nice and slippery.” He dug a finger into the clay and stared at the buildup that had collected on his nail. “Gross.” He looked down at where he’d scraped and discovered that he’d exposed the material underneath. It looked ivory. Not quite stone. Though not quite metal. “I wonder what this cave used to be.” “Are you going to go in there?” Max asked. “Hey, you found it, Columbus. Your prize awaits down the rabbit hole.” Max washed himself in the river before approaching Jolias. Standing next to someone with such chiseled musculature when he looked like a sack of pudding wasn’t very confidence-boosting. But, as he knew, Jolias was never the judgmental type. Not when he’d had his own fair share of men. While Max didn’t inspire awe, he was still Jolias’ favorite friend. But that’s all he ever was. “Do I look like a white rabbit to you? Jo-Alice in Wonderland.” Jolias rolled his eyes and gently moved his firm hand down Max’s soft back, urging him subtlely closer towards the hole. “I don’t know what you expect to find down there, but it’s no upelkuchen. A skeleton, maybe. But cake? Nah.” Before he could even question it, Max was already kneeling and squeezing his legs, prepping to slide down. “The only cakes I want are yours.” “You had your chance.” Max frowned. “But—“ Jolias slapped him on the back, sending him flying down the lubricated slide before he could even finish his sentence. MEANWHILE The German man’s yelling echoed like a death squelch for several seconds before it punctuated with a profound splash. It was impossible to tell how deep it went. Especially not when Max was so silent. The echoing had ceased, and Jolias couldn’t even hear a whisper of a sound coming from the hole. “Are you dead?” Jolias cried. “The water’s cold as fuck! But I think I see an exit. Get down here! And be careful with the bags!” Jolias squeezed himself into the hole, sitting in the same impression Max’s cheeks had left in the clay. He stared at the exposed material again and wondered what it was. Oddly, it reminded him of Peruvian cuisine. He was no stranger to chicken bones and beef bone marrow, and something told him it was no different to whatever it was he was about to send himself flying down. A giant bone? He thought. But that query could wait. “Jol’? Are you coming down here or what?” He snapped out of it. “Coming.” And sent himself into the void. Thankfully, he had prior experience jumping off cliffs and into the ocean. The protocols to avoid getting his balls crushed by the water were second nature to him. When the chute ended, it took him a second to realize he was free-falling. But he kept his posture, maintained his stance, kept one hand on his groin and one on his nose. The splash he made wasn’t as large — or as loud — as Max’s. He was as a needle piercing the calm fabric of the water’s surface. He opened his eyes in the freezing waters and found wisps of light poking through a crack in the ground above. They were in an underground cave, an aquifer, most likely. It didn’t seem like anyone had been down there in years. Decades. Instead of souls, he found boulders and stalagmites. But someone was missing. “Max?” Jolias asked, spinning in the water. He looked up. Down. Found nothing but rocks and shadows. Not even the floor below. A frozen hand latched onto his ankle before he could blink. In his panic, he kicked something that felt soft, felt breakable under the water. “What the fuck?!” Coming up for air, Max massaged his bleeding nose and released a handful of crimson into the spring water. It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but Jolias couldn’t ignore the red strips escaping from his friend’s face, not when his own eyes were wide with shock. “I can’t believe you kicked me id da face!” Max cried, nasally, splashing Jolias with a wave. “Oh, god, by dose.” “Jesus! I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you! I swear.” Jolias raised his hands in defense. Not from Max’s words, but the water. Another splash. “Who else vas it going to be? A nazi zo’bie? A Russian superbodel?” Max snorted out the last of the blood into the water and jostled it. “First the water shoots up my damn nose and crushes my balls, and then you kick me in the face. Lovely. If you plan on assaulting my dick next, I,”—Max’s face went somewhere pleasant—"actually—“ “Don’t finish that sentence.” “Fine.” Jolias slapped a hand on Max’s wet shoulder and hopped behind him, posturing himself for a piggy-back lift. “You’ll be fine. Now, go, princess.” Jolias lifted an arm, pointing at the exit atop a short climb. “Take us to the exit.” “Nuh-uh. Not yet!” Max gripped both Jolias’ calves and leapt backwards into the water, submerging them both. The two roughhoused for the better part of an hour. Neither ever wanting to leave the cave. Both their carry-ons had gotten ruined. But they didn’t notice. In fact, they wouldn’t’ve cared. Max and Jolias took turns plunging each other into the water, never quite enjoying a full breath of air before being thrown and wrestled and slam-dunked. They weren’t sure when the glowing wisp in the water’s reflection started to move on its own. “What is that?” Jolias pointed at something moving in-between them. Seafoam green, Jolias described it. To Max, it resembled something more akin to blue sperm. It wiggled and darted through the water like a bullet, passing around their limbs and gracing them with light contact. Jolias wasn’t expecting to find anything sentient when he slid down the hole. But there it was. Something so alien, so slime-like, slippery and malleable to the touch, yet impossible to hold. At some point, it disappeared from Max’s sight. “Shit. Where’d it go?” “You can’t find it?” Jolias swam over and showered Max’s dried hair in a handful of water. He shook his head, readying himself to dive. “I’ll see if I can find it. If I don’t come up in three minutes, feed Whiskers for me.” Max took a deep breath, puffing out his stomach and cheeks, and plunged himself beneath Jolias’ careless feet. Jolias wasn’t sure what Max was hoping to find, but the former hoped it wouldn’t’ve been another broken body part. Jolias hadn’t said a word in the time Max was gone. Instead, he swam to the nearby gravel shore where they’d tossed their bags and pair of glasses and dressed up. A dry exit had revealed itself in their brouhaha, and he couldn’t wait to leave. After two minutes, Max emerged from the water — head first — and trudged through the water towards Jolias on his tip-toes. “Couldn’t find it.” “At least I won’t have to dig up your body. Now come on. We have to go. Our flight’s coming up.” The water cascaded down Max’s body as he stepped onto the gravel, shaking his hair. “Wait. Not yet.” Jolias hopped to his feet and rolled his eyes. He was primed, ready to go. The yellow shirt he wore clung tightly to his torso; its orange sun distorted because of his chest and abs. “What is it now? I’m tired of playfighting.” Max stopped a foot away and let the rest of the water sink into the gravel. Standing still, he reached an absent hand down towards his crotch and grabbed a handful of his cock. Jolias knew Max’s body well enough to know that he was never quite so… endowed. His black shorts were jutting out from his waist almost unnaturally so. As if he’d stuffed it with socks. Several pairs of. “I think something’s wrong with my dick,” Max muttered. He was met with a snigger. “What’s new?” “No, I mean it! I think there’s something up with it.” Max pinched the two ends of his shorts and readied to pull them down and expose his nether. Jolias stopped him with a lightning-quick hand. The smaller Peruvian man had seen Max’s crotch before (they compared sizes at a party once), but they were intoxicated then. And not hundreds of feet deep in a prehistoric aquifer, surrounded by virgin spring water host to who-knows-how-many bacteria. Before Max could question Jolias’ hesitation, a blue glow appeared in both their eyes, and they looked down to find the source. Emanating from Max’s pouch. “You’re right. That— that isn’t normal.” MEANWHILE Letting out a whimper, Max shook his head and dropped his shorts to his ankles. They both stared at the very same glowing organism they’d encountered in the water. “What the fuck…” Max whispered. It was worm-like yet texture-free, smooth to the touch, wet and slimy and coiled tightly around his six-inch penis. He looked to Jolias with quivering eyes. “Get it off me…!” he whispered in a panic. His cheeks were already going red. “I’m not touching that thing! We need to get you to a doctor. It might pop your dick if it gets any tighter.” Max pouted. A flurry of sensual titillations washed over him in that moment. He felt his body heat start to rise. “No… I—I don’t think it’s…”—he moaned—“I don’t think it’s bad.” He coiled inwards, compressing his torso, reaching out to grab the blue-greenish snake but stopping, twitching. “This actually feels kind of good.” The organism strained momentarily, like a firm grip’s squeeze, and released, causing Max to release the stress built-up on his face. The blush went hot, even in the dark. With one eye open, Max gasped in pleasure. “Fuck… it feels like it’s giving me a handjob or something.” Jolias froze. He was only watching as his best friend’s hardening member was being serviced by something they’d never seen before. “Max?” But the taller man stayed silent. The contractions continued as the slime demanded Max’s blood rush into his penis, now a pillar that rose and protruded from his waist. The warmth rippling through his balls appeared intoxicatingly paralyzing. It was taking him all he had to keep himself upright, his eyes open as he stared at Jolias, whose hands quivered with hesitation. The mushroom head of Max’s cock looked ready to burst after a minute of lubed hands-free masturbation. “Holy fuck… It’s gonna make me—“ Max’s train of thought was cut off. Before he could unleash the load he’d built up, the entity unraveled itself and darted into the slit of his penis. There was a moment of concern as Max watched the slit of his cock be pried open. Yet, despite his initial assumption, there was no pain. Only the opposite: a gentle force that throbbed and bore the sensation of squeezing his cock from within. Even if he wanted to speak, there wasn’t much to say. Both he and Jolias only watched as the slime slithered up Max’s shaft, pulsating, and slipped into his mushroom head. It was almost torturous. The pleasure was overwhelming both the inside and outside of his penis, and his mind flashed white with surreal disbelief. Max’s eye twitched as he glanced at his best friend who’d taken a step back in fearful fascination. “Jol’…” The building, tightening pressure in his shaft as the slime continued to pour itself into it forced Max to wince. “Is this really happening?” Jolias asked, gawking mouth open. As more and more of the slime seemed to endlessly make its way into Max’s genitals, another sensation piled on top of his already overwhelming nerves. His eyes were on the ceiling, yet he felt the slime pulsate in his urethra, demanding more space, stretching out his six-inch cock like a balloon. Despite the abnormality, there was still no pain. It was as though the slime were incapable of it. Max shuddered second after second as it continued to throb and push against the outer limits of his penis, making enough room to accommodate all of it, its movements, its pulses, almost like a heartbeat. Before Max could even lower his head to examine what was happening, a jolt of energy akin to a caffeine shot jolted his system. He was overloaded with energy yet held prisoner by the growing ecstasy. As more and more of the slime disappeared into his genitals, he could feel each and every gram that compounded in his balls, making them heavier, thicker. And still, the tail end of the slime continued to squeeze him from within, egging him towards release, demanding it. His cock continued to swell inches larger and girthier and heavier. The slime sent a final wave of intoxicating power as it moved down from his shaft and settled in his balls, now engorged and loaded with cum and slime. He’d thrown his head back, lost to the ecstasy. The heat pulsating from his testicles was sending his adrenaline into overdrive. Jolias stared at the much larger penis in stupefied horror. Max had only ever seen a cock that size once before, and that was in a porno. The ivory-white tool had lengthened to over double Jolias’. And it was still fully erect. MEANWHILE “Max?! Are you okay? That thing just—“ But he wasn’t there — not mentally. His glazed eyes twitched, but Jolias could still see through the mirth, flashing a quick purple before returning to their absent state, nothing going on behind them. All he heard were heaving moans, guttural breaths, and the running of his fingers as he touched himself feet away from Jolias. Jolias wasn’t sure which to address first. The fact that his best friend’s fuckstick looked obscene? Or the way his balls looked big enough to rival baseballs? Or that a living glob of slime just slithered into Max’s shaft? He broke out into a cold sweat just thinking about it. When the convulsions seemed to stop, solidifying the newly grown state of Max’s pumped member, he let out a groaning moan. Max motioned as if to ejaculate. But there was nothing. Only hot air and the faintest drops of cum came sputtering out, dotting the gravel beneath them in white. “Jol’…” Jolias wiped the sweat off his brow and approached his friend, a peripheral eye keeping close watch of the softening cock. It didn’t seem to be losing any inches, staying the same size it’d been when it became a host. “Welcome back to reality. Are you alright?” Max sighed and walked over to his bag. “I just came. I think. I—“ He bent over and dug his face into his bag, scavenging for a dry shirt to wear but never settling. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?” “I don’t know. No? Nothing I can think of looked anything like that slimy worm thing.” Max scoffed, tossing a loose white shirt over his head and slipping it on. It didn’t hug him well. He didn’t care. “Great. I’ve got some new species of snake gurgling around in my balls. I’m gonna give the British Museum a run for their money. Do you think there’s a doctor on the plane I could ask?” The gray shorts he wore did nothing to compress his now-plus-sized cock and balls. Even with his boxers, it was a tight fit, poking out from his sweats. Jolias tossed his bag over his shoulder and stepped towards the incline headed towards the hole in the ceiling. “A doctor in philosophy, maybe. I mean, we could ask, but I doubt we’ll find anyone.” He sighed. “We’ll probably have more luck in Lima. Marco might know someone.” “Uh…” Max froze, a brief furrow appearing on his forehead at the mention. He stopped himself before the wrinkles settled. But Jolias already noticed. “You’re worrying about nothing. He won’t get in the way. I told you.” He dug his fingers into the cracks in the cave wall. And climbed. “Now, are you coming? Or are you going to stay here and sulk and be petty with that huge slime hotel of a dick of yours?” Max sighed, dropping his shoulders, dragging his sneakers across the gravel. One eye on Max, the other on the aquifer. There were no more unusual glowing organisms slithering around in the water. Just as there were no answers. But those could wait. “I’m coming.” Jolias paused and snickered. “You already did.” ◊ ◊ ◊ The security officer conducted a full-body check and held his breath the moment his hand cradled what he’d initially thought to be a grenade. One haphazardly shoved inside Max’s underwear. Everyone was watching, waiting, wondering what was holding up the line. Their flight had been called. All eyes were on Max. Jolias waited in the tunnel, ignoring the putrid gazes of impatient passengers who couldn’t wait a second longer. “You’re—“ the officer gulped, eyes shaking as he turned to the flight attendant holding the ticket, as his wandering gaze left an imprint in Max’s mind. “You’re good to go, sir.” With a firm nod, Max took his bag and followed Jolias through the tunnel. People rushed by, a display of passive-aggression, bumping and elbowing their way past the two. “Come on,” Jolias ushered. “Let’s get seated.” Max kept his head low, making every attempt to appear smaller, to disappear in the crowd, to be forgotten. The trek back to the airport had been hell. It had been a mistake to wear gray sweatshorts, especially when his genitals resembled smuggled fruits. Though, in a way, he technically was smuggling something. Something alive. And it wasn’t wasting any effort in making its presence known. People both native and foreign to Colombia glanced at him wherever he went — though not in his eyes. At his junk. Max had tried everything to keep himself under control. But it was impossible keeping his swollen python down, especially when it hardened whenever he so much as caught Jolias at the corner of his eyes. They got into their seats — Max enjoying the window, Jolias the center. He glued his face to the glass, refusing to acknowledge his current reality until he was back on solid ground. South America was a natural, picturesque haven. But he couldn’t enjoy it knowing something had tampered with the biology of his genitals. MEANWHILE Jolias didn’t know what to do. He’d invited his friend with the sole intention of offering him a vacation and a share of his inheritance. There was nothing in the agreement about this. He lifted the armrest separating them, but Max only grumbled in reply. “N— not right now, Jol’. It was hard enough sneaking this thing through security. I don’t want you making this,”—he slapped his semi-hard cock—“this thing any harder than it already is. It might tear a hole through my damn shorts. For fuck’s sake…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry this is happening. I promise, as soon as we land, we’ll get you to a doctor.” “In Lima? I’ll pass.” “What? Why? You’ve been complaining about that thing in your balls the entire walk back. Would you prefer to keep that thing inside you?” Max stayed silent. “I know it’s not exactly first world down here, but the people are still more than capable of helping.” Jolias settled back in his seat, lowering the armrest. “I already texted Marco,” he muttered. “He said there’s someone who could help. Just… give them a chance?” He patted Max’s shoulder, subconsciously drawing his face towards him. In that instant, Max’s heated expression softened back to its innocent state, replacing his barista-esque charm. A smile emerged, albeit weak. “Alright. Fine. I just hope whatever is in me…” he moaned, “stops swirling around in my fucking balls. People have been staring at me, you know. It’s not exactly easy hiding a hard ten-incher.” Jolias opened his mouth to speak, but the older American woman next to him cut him off. “Would you two stop?” she grumbled. “I don’t want to hear any more about your privates!” “Our bad.” Jolias replied, a sinister smirk propping a dimple. He turned to Max and bit his lip, lightly flicking the semi-hard head of Max’s cock, outlining through his sweatshorts. Max’s eyes grew wide — as his cheeks went red. “What are you doing?!” he whispered. “Didn’t you just hear what that lady said?” Jolias shrugged. “She only mentioned privates. Why not make it public? Not like it’s public nudity while it’s in your shorts, is it?” “Excuse me?” the woman spoke. Her eyes bounced from Jolias’ to Max’s snaking penis. “Could you please stop engaging in public sex? You are on a plane!” “Sex? I’ll have you know my friend here happens to be a virgin. We’re just having a bit of safe-for-work man-to-man action. No one’s stopping you from switching seats. Better yet, I’m sure the next flight would be more than willing to accommodate you.” Max placed a hand on Jolias’ toned wrist. “Hey… Jol’. Please. Don’t pick a fight. Things are hard enough as is.” And his hands rapped on his chocolate skin. “Though… “ he leaned in close to Jolias’ ear for a whisper. “We can get a closer look at my between-me-down-there when we get to our place. Just not here. That alright with you?” Jolias paused, looked Max in the eye, and shook himself clean. “God.” He took one last look at the woman, now raising a wrinkled eyebrow in irritation. “Fine, fine. But just an inspection.” Max sniffled, his cock bouncing in unison, as he caught Jolias in a gleeful trap. “Just an inspection.” ◊ ◊ ◊ Max woke up at two in the morning. His ears were first, emerging from the heavy silence of a dream come true and into a nightmare orchestrated by the hellish rumbling of the plane’s engine. All the lights were off, save for a few. The occasional insomniac, the jetlagged businessman, the stressed and anxious. They were scattered around, none near enough to provide ample light to any one spot. Max’s eyes were drawn to the blinking seatbelt light overhead, blasted by the cool wind from the AC. Outside the window was a sea of black and blue, the clouds more of a fog the plane penetrated with ease. Jolias was asleep next to him, resting his forehead against the seat in front. Max sniggered. The guy he’d had a crush on for years had never looked so unbelievably unsexy. Yet, after everything they’d been through, he couldn’t have wanted him more. They’d seen each other naked. Jolias’ eyes gleamed at the sight of Max’s enlarged crotch back in the cave — Max was never going to let him live that one down. For the longest time, he didn’t know what it was going to take to make the gym rat ogle him the same way he did every other guy at the gym. Being around all that hot sweat and those big men was never going to work for Max. The cold steel of the dumbbells didn’t feel natural in his hands. Artificial, not meant to be touched. But now he knew better. He knew what Jolias wanted, what he was always after. He tugged the garter of his sweatshorts and inspected the damage. His cock wasn’t the iron-strength beam it was hours ago, but even soft, it was still longer and thicker than he’d ever been hard. And his testicles put eggs to shame. He shook his waist a bit just to see if it — if he — were real, to watch it jiggle in between his legs. To feel it smack against his thighs. Despite the abnormality of the situation, Max found the sensation his new weight brought a pleasantly natural development. “What are you doing…?” Jolias whispered. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” Jolias tossed his head and smiled sleepily at Max, one eye still closed and fast asleep. “I work two jobs, Max. No rest means more money.” “And yet, here we are, on the way to Peru to loot whatever rent money we can pry from your grandmother’s remains.” “Shut up.” Jolias lifted the armrest and nestled against Max’s shoulder. “You make it sound like a war crime.” The heat rushed into Max’s face before he could react. Jolias’ black hair was tickling the side of his neck, and his slowed breathing was crawling down Max’s bare arm. They’d never been so close before. Never so intimate. He could feel the stream of blood returning to his cock, the very same beast he’d spent the past few hours struggling to tame, now breaking free of its reigns. “H-hey, Jol’… do you think you could, uh… not use my shoulder as a pillow?” He lowered his head to whisper into Jolias’ ear. “You’re getting me hard again.” “Who cares? The old coon next to me is asleep, and I’m trying to get some well-deserved shuteye. We’ll deal with your horndog problems in the morning.” Max gulped. The mushroom head was crawling down his right leg, inching towards Jolias, pulling and shifting under the gray fabric of his sweatshorts. He tried escaping, shifting closer to the window. Jolias followed. The smaller man was refusing to rest his head on anything that wasn’t Max’s immediate shoulder. Heat was something of an issue to Max. It always got him hard. And being around Jolias wasn’t making things any easier. “I’m serious.” Max felt the flush of warmth course through his cheeks. He laid his eyes on the salami outlined through his shorts. It didn’t look real. But it was his. And he could make it jump at will. Jolias grumbled, lightly flicking the shaft staring at him. “God. Did it get bigger?” Max was confused. “What?” It never occurred to him that any changes, especially subtle as they were, would’ve been invisible to him. But was Jolias telling the truth? Or seeing what he wanted to see? “Don’t touch it.” Regardless, Jolias’ fingers playfully tapping Max’s cock made him twitch. The pleasure being wrought was disproportionate to Jolias’ teasing. Max struggled to maintain his composure. The sensation was writhing through his every nerve, tensing and straining. It was in his fingers, his toes, his neck. But they were in public. Most were asleep, but the few who weren’t could hear every micro-moan and gasp quivering from his lips. There was no way to halt Jolias’ advance. He was indomitable, unrelenting, and oh-so-damn fuckable. The AC turned lukewarm in minutes. Max couldn’t help it — he let out a moan. Though not of agony. Nor of pleasure. The latter was an understatement. It was ecstasy. Max was seeing red, and Jolias’ handsome face at the forefront of his imagination. His best friend’s toned, athletic body, that V-taper, those thick brown nipples protruding from his supple chest. Just from the way Jolias shuffled against Max, his strong shoulders poked and prodded Max’s own soft arm. Those copper eyes, pools of molten gold, shining like the sun. Though his crotch wasn’t as enormous as Max’s was, the ham-like thighs framing it were more than enough compensation. Max glanced at Jolias and regretted it immediately. A drop of precum escaped from his balls. He’d lost control for a moment. Only a second. His testicles hungered for release. They were pressing against his chair, cushioned and primed. But he held the urge down. Kept himself contained. They were still in public. And Max was two seats and several aisles away from reaching the closest toilet. Yet Jolias’ heat permeated his every pore, bathing him in his natural scent, the musk of a Peruvian model. Without a word or any action at all, Jolias was unwittingly holding him hostage along the edge. And he wanted to fall. Wanted nothing more than to let go. The heat was creeping up his swollen shaft, the point of no return. Max held his breath. And he looked, one last time, at Jolias’ heterochrome orange eyes, grinning at him. “Fuck.” He trailed off. A stream of pre-cum pooled in Max’s shorts, coating the fattened cock of his head. Max’s and Jolias’ noses were bombarded with the pungent scent of cum, and they both stared at the source, paused for breath, dumbfounded in curiosity. Max waited for it to end. His hope was short-lived as his balls inexplicably began churning and radiating a sensual heat as it pumped out dollop after dollop of potent sperm. He couldn’t believe the feeling, as if his body had a mind of its own, mercilessly pinching his erotic nerves. “Excuse me, steward, but… what’s that smell?” Max turned to the voice and found it coming from across the plane, opposite to his own seat. It was an old man, sniffling. A cold. He shouldn’t have been able to notice anything. Yet Max stared at the way he described the masculine perfume: raw, warm, chlorine- or bleach-like. Those weren’t the words he would’ve used to describe his cum, but hearing them from a total stranger made them all the more real. Jolias was salivating next to him, his eyes pointed at the couple a few seats ahead, sniffing around for the source. Max couldn’t believe what was happening. Yet the cum only seemed to continue seeping through his shorts, streaming down his leg. The ecstasy was intoxicating. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass. And he let go. The flood of cum gushed out of his balls as a geyser would. Some of it splattered on the carpet. Some on the seat in front, in the net basket, in the pages of the magazines. The cock had broken free of Max’s shorts, pulled the fabric back into his pelvis, and stood at a 45-degree angle. The head flared as if it were alive, roaring and unleashing the white splooge in bursts. Max threw his head back and shut his eyes. He heard Jolias’ voice call out, “Max?” And he wanted nothing more than to fuck it. To fuck him. He bucked in his seat, slowly, girating, picturing the sight of Jolias’ nude self positioned over him, manipulating the nerves in his oversized cock. Jolias had described them to Max before: the ways his ass and cock could take any and every man he slept with to heaven. Those side-comments were never lost on Max. He’d used them to ejaculate before. Just the words. And his voice. And this moment in time, frozen on the plane, was no different. “Max!” Jolias whispered, almost in a yell. There were others looking, glancing over, realizing where the smell was coming from. People were waking up. People were staring. Max shut himself up as he felt the blood in his face flush with heat, releasing the final glob of cum from his balls. It raced up his shaft and ejected, making an audible splat as it collided with the food tray. “Holy fuck,” Max mouthed. But the heat didn’t dissipate. Not yet. He was still far from satisfied. Jolias tugged Max’s shorts in a vain attempt at covering up his privates before the approaching stewardess laid her eyes on the biggest, wettest penis she would’ve ever laid eyes on. It was no good. The tool was too hard, too difficult. “Max, cover yourself up! Holy shit. Someone’s gonna see you.” Jolias got no reply. Max was well and truly out of it. His mind had gone blank-white with euphoria, even in the dimly lit cabin. The heat had taken over every bare inch of his skin, but it never showed. His fingers, resting on the windowsill and Jolias’ left leg, were twitching. Then it happened, the moment Max had been waiting for — the true grand finale. He felt it first in his stomach. With a struggling hand, he bent over and lifted the hem of his shirt, exposing his flawless baby fat paunch, hanging loosely over his shorts’ garter. Jolias tried to unclench Max’s grip and cease the exhibition. He failed. Max’s will surpassed Jolias’ physicality in power, though neither man knew when or how. But Max knew why. With one look, he directed Jolias’ attention to his exposed stomach. Before the latter could even utter a worded reaction, the unbelievable happened. The fat that had once wrapped around Max’s midsection began to dissipate, sinking back into his body, disappearing like a deflating balloon. Both their eyes grew wide as they watched. What was once a torso akin to a bubble was shrinking — no, molding — into marble. The skin tightened until love handles became abs, and, as was revealed by another lift of his shirt, gynecomastia became a pair of pecs. They were faint, flat, nothing like Jolias’. But they were tough. They were square. And they were his. Max didn’t notice the stewardess stop and turn to examine what was happening on seats 33 and 34. She spoke before looking, “Excuse me, sir—“ “Oh, my god.” Jolias reached out a hand to touch but hovered halfway. “Is this real? W-what happened?” Max panted. The heat was finally disappearing, leaving his body like invisible fumes. He turned to Jolias, to the stewardess, to the businessman across the plane. Nothing could have prepared him for what just happened. His hands were still holding up his shirt, exposing his newly-formed chest, swimmer’s abs, V-line, and most importantly his ivory monolith, which was taking its sweet time retracting into a more manageable size. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think I need to clean up,” he told Jolias. Everyone watching was dumbfounded. Max turned to the stewardess, clutching her ID in shock. “You wouldn’t happen to have a box of tissues, would you?”