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  1. Broody

    POP, part 5 added 3/MAR

    Trying something a little different here. Basic synopsis: A powerful, dominant serial killer is murdering massive bodybuilders with his bare hands, and a police detective (himself a massive bodybuilder) must track him down while fighting his own lustful attraction to the uber-masculine perpetrator.] Warnings: Snuff, Gore, Horror POP “You’re supposed to wear a coverall, like me,” said Dr Stain, the medical examiner, who in his white head-to-toe gear, contrasted sharply with the slimy red gore that covered the entire apartment. “And look like a cumshot in a uterus, like you?” said Detective Carnitas. “Not likely, chum. ‘Sides, they didn’t have one in my size.” “They don’t have doors in your size, Detective.” “True. Guess I’m just too much man for this world.” Carnitas did have to turn sideways to fit his 6’6” 450 lbs of swollen muscles through the door of this crime-scene-cum-abattoir. “This guy was too. Now literally, I guess. So be careful what you wish for.” The giant detective looked at the body. It looked like a skeleton wrapped in a bag of oversized skin. “What the fuck are you on about? This was a fat dude that had some kind of weight-loss surgery.” “Very sudden weight-loss surgery.” The doctor extended a pair of stainless steel forceps and pulled up the skin of the ragged corpse’s chest. “Weird.” Carnitas grabbed the second tool offered by the pathologist and together they raised the pec skin, which had enough area to cover a 60 inch chest. “And this surgeon needs to sharpen his scalpel, look here.” Jagged rends broke the skin at the top and sides of the chest. “It’s like the fat just burst outta him,” said the dumbfounded cop. “Not fat.” The doc pointed at the ceiling, walls and windows. “Look around at all this tissue, it’s pure red meat, no adipose.” “Are you telling me some perp exploded an Olympia-sized, fully-conditioned bodybuilder in his own apartment? What kind of weapon could do that? There’s no grenade shrapnel or burns.” Det. Carnitas felt his heart racing. “No weapon.” “So he took it with him.” “Nope.” Carnitas looked askance at the doctor. “No need to tax your brain overmuch, Detective. There’s video.” The doctor stood and crossed to a desktop computer with a webcam and used his gloved hand to wipe gore off the screen. Carnitas took a sharp breath. It was a freeze-frame shot of a red explosion that was surely the moment of death. But the red burst had a milky-white center. He found himself holding his breath, his heart fluttering as he looked closer. It was a man’s back. Though the man was half the size of the victim, he had the most densely muscled back Carnitas had ever seen. The groove of the spinal erectors in his Christmas tree was deep enough to trap a man’s fingers up to the third knuckle. His lats looked like twin wine barrels tucked under his brawny arms. His massive, tenticular traps formed a monstrous Kraken that seemed to pin Carnitas’ brown eyes with a burning glare. “What the fuck?” The doctor grabbed the mouse to click the symbol to back the vid up ten seconds. Carnitas gasped when primal sounds erupted from a fully equipped stereo system. The video showed a bloated mega-heavyweight bodybuilder who could have been Carnitas’ twin, held aloft and practically vibrating with lust in the concrete arms of the muscular perp. A high-pitched sexual whine ululated out of the bodybuilder’s cum-covered lips as the perps lats spread to eclipse their view of the vic’s mid-torso. The dominating bear-hug compressed the middle of the massive victim’s physique, swelling the top half of his pecs so much they pushed up into his chin, forcing his neck back til his whole head was obscured by deformed pec-meat blistered with stretch marks. Beastly basso-profundo grunts shot out of the subwoofer as that inhuman back rippled and flexed with incalculable strength. “Fucking hell.” Carnitas was finding it hard to breathe. The grunts got longer, louder and deeper, a counterpoint to the rising tone of the vic’s squeal, which sounded like air leaking out of a balloon. “No…” burbled the helpless vic, just as his body became a crimson supernova. Red flesh burst in all directions out of distressed skin as muscles built over years of obsessive workouts splattered like bugs on a windshield against vastly superior brawn. Carnitas was shocked and bewildered, but what happened next truly turned his world upside down. The perps wordless grunts slid into consonants and vowels as a long lingering… “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!!!!” … vibrated the floorboards. The sheer manly amplitude of the perp’s ultra-deep voice traveled the distance to where Carnitas stood, thundered up his shins, crossed in an X across his 38” quads and locked his groin in a vice. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off of the screen if he wanted to, as the perp turned to the side. The massive arms dropped casually to his sides, and the crushed torso slumped, but still clung goo-like to granite pecs shaped like Atlas stones that now filled the vic’s ribcage where vital organs once pulsed. A pec bounce jiggled the deformed corpse like a macabre marionette, which the perp found amusing. “HUH-HUH-HUH.” His lewd, rumbly chuckle reached out to Carnitas’ bloated prick and blasted the cum out of it like toothpaste from a tube crushed by a fist. Another pec bounce loosened the vacuum of the vic’s collapsed lungs and the sodden necrotic mess slid to the floor. As those insanely pumped, veiny boulder pecs approached the camera, the perp wiped the victim’s blood from their curvature, revealing a massive chest-and-abs tatt that penetrated the bodybuilder cop’s brain like an ice pick: GONNA POP U BITCH Carnitas blacked out as he heard the perp’s final words: “WHO’S NEXT?”
  2. musclegin30

    The Estate: Part II (Horror Story)

    Synopsis The Glencross twins are back to finish their day of killing. This time they face off against the police sent to investigate their gruesome crimes. They expect a night of killing and growing, but what they don't expect is their estranged Uncle. He knows the secret to their power, and with him on police's side can they put an end to the Glencross twins' reign of terror once and for all? Find out in this, the stunning conclusion of "The Estate" Prologue Patrick Glencross sat in the burgundy wingback chair of his living room, nursing a brandy. It was early, but he needed a drink. A cigar lay dying in the ashtray beside him as he stared out of his penthouse window, eyes fixed on a point so far in the distance he couldn’t actually see it, though he knew it was there: Glencross Estate, the house of blood and horror. He tapped his loafered foot on the floor and drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Fuck,” he mumbled, after a sip of Brandy so small it did nothing but wet the tip of his tongue. It was his nephews’, Evan and Rupert’s, birthday. They were 21. Like most of the men in the Glencross line, they had signed their names in blood in the demon’s book and the gift (really a curse) had passed to them. Strength and size, the ideal masculine form, and all they had to do was kill for it. Patrick shook his head at the thought. He and his brother, Lawrence, had each been given the chance to sign their names when they turned 18. Lawrence was the older brother by one year and jumped at the chance with glee, signing the book quickly, under the proud gaze of their heavily muscled giant of a father. Patrick refused when his turn came, however, not sharing his family’s bloodlust. He watched with jealousy as his brother grew year after year, the pride of his father’s eye, while he was the black sheep pariah, pushed aside, ignored, laughed at. He built his body the natural way, the moral way, developing a great physique for a man nearing 50. He was thick and toned, but nothing like his colossus of a brother. At least his conscience was clean and his soul, safe… But was it? He often wondered if it was enough for the good to not commit evil, or if it was the good’s duty to actively fight it, and end evil. Was cutting ties with his family and refusing to take part in their evil enough to ensure his salvation, or did he have to ensure that the evil could not go on? He knew his nephews had signed the book and for three years he sat idly by while they killed and grew. One day they would have sons of their own, who would be pressured to sign the book and the evil would persist. Patrick rose from his chair and clenched his fists; a look of determination fell upon his face as he caught his reflection in the windowpane. He saw the wrinkles around his eyes, the thinning hair, going grey. If he waited any longer, he’d be too old to make a move, and it had to be him that made the move. This was family business. He flexed and felt his muscles swell against the fabric of his plaid button-down shirt. He still had strength. Patrick nodded his head. He’d go to Glencross Estate, barge through the doors of that manor, knock his brother flat on his back if he had to, and destroy the demon’s book. “Destroy the book. End the curse!” Chapter 1 Officer Sean Henderson stood, casually flexing his muscles beneath his dark blue uniform. Fuck, he filled it out good. The fabric stretched, having a hard time containing the bulging mounds of mass he had built over years of heavy lifting, heavy eating, and heavy roiding. There were some other big guys on the force, but none came close to him. Henderson was by far the biggest man at the station. Probably the most handsome as well, he thought, with his close-cut blonde hair, green eye, wide jaw and strong cheeks. Henderson had to laugh at himself. It was just like him to be thinking about how hot he was, when his mind should have been on the situation at hand: the chaotic murder scene and investigation happening around him. “Enjoying yourself?” Came a voice from his left. Sean turned to see Officer Vincent Amato sauntering up to him. “What’s the matter big guy, you got nothing better to do than flex those huge muscles of yours?” “I can think of a few things I could be doing,” Sean said. “Like this…” He grabbed Vincent and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. “Woah, big fella,” Vincent said, when they released. “Not when we’re working, remember.” Sean looked down at his twink of a man. Well, Vincent was actually an average sized guy, but next to Sean’s 275 lbs, average men looked like twinks. Sean smiled as he stared at his man’s handsome face, his dark, slicked back hair, 5 o’ clock shadow, and tanned Italian features. “I’m starting not to care if anyone sees,” Sean said. “So what if they find out? Most of the guys on the force would be too chicken shit to say anything to me.” Sean laughed. “Just let someone try to call me a fairy.” “Well, I do care, baby,” Vincent said, looking side to side, “And in case you hadn’t noticed, we have police work to do.” *** Det. Jean Morgan’s eyes darted from side to side, as she and her partner, Det. Owen Lerner, toured the crime scene. Her eyes would linger on a footprint here and a blood splatter, there. Her mind was racing to piece it all together. There were a thousand clues, each a puzzle piece, that would present a clear picture if only she could put it all together in the right order. What the hell happened at Glencross Estate? “Most of the killings seemed to take place in the extensive hedge maze,” Francis, the CSI, said. He was a young, freckled guy, with messy red hair. He looked fresh out of college, despite being nearly 30. Jean was reminded just how old she was getting. Everyone was looking like a kid. 18 years of this shit would do it. Every case left a line on her face and even darker circles under her eyes. She needed a long vacation, somewhere tropical, but in that moment, she’d have settled for a cup of joe. “I’m thinking this could have been something ritual,” Owen said. “You know a lot of these old families are involved in secret societies, and weird rituals.” “Is that right?” Jean smiled. “It’s an unspoken truth,” Owen said, nodding his head. “Look at Epstein. A lot of money makes a person think they’re God. It makes them live in their own world, separate from reality. A world with their own rules and beliefs. You ever heard of Bohemian Grove?” Jean rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to make sure to put all that in the report, Lerner. The chief will get a bang out of it.” Jean brushed it off with a joke but wouldn’t rule it out. She never ruled anything out this early in an investigation. Something about these grisly murders didn’t seem normal, whether it was because of some ritual or not, she couldn’t be sure, but her intuition was telling her that the puzzle she pieced together was going to be a strange one. Call it a woman’s intuition, but don’t call it that around her. Jean Morgan called it a detective’s intuition because that was what she considered herself. A detective first, and a woman second. And the intuition was telling her something else: That they were all being watched.
  3. RoseConspiracy

    Insatiable ( Chapter 2 NEW! 11/5)

    In somewhat strange but related news, federal authorities are still looking into the disappearances of multiple bodybuilders across the country. The deputy director has declined to make any further statements, citing that no new evidence has been uncovered. At this time, all six men are still missing and their fates unknown. The State Department is uncertain if a group or a single individual is to blame and they advise that all large, muscular men be cautious and on alert. Any tips that could help investigators in this case can be called in or texted to the number at the bottom of the screen. Incredible artwork done by the very talented @HardbodyVideo
  4. musclegin30

    The Estate (Horror Story)

    This is not a feel-good story. There is violence, gore, and death. In honor of Halloween, I decided to write a what is basically a muscle slasher story. So, if you like muscle snuff, this is for you. The first three chapters will come today, so you can start it, since it is on the longer side. The rest will be posted on Halloween. Synopsis: Four friends (Chris, Alex, Danilo, and Niles) are invited to what they hope will be a fun weekend at the family Estate of two of their college acquaintances (Evan and Rupert Glencross). But joy soon turns to horror when the friends discover why the muscular Glencross brothers really invited them. The friends are plunged into a race for their lives as they struggle to escape the estate. “Blood is life. Blood is power.”- Frederick Glencross, 1872 It is said that if a house is old enough, one must assume someone has died in it. So, it stands to reason that the older the house, the more death it has seen. Glencross Manor is 200 years old, and if its blood-stained walls could talk, they would scream... Chapter 1 “I bless the raaains down in Aaafricaaa!” Danilo belted out at the top of his lungs, singing along to the radio. He couldn’t hold a tune if you paid him. Alex told him as much as he turned the car off the main drag and onto a tree-lined side street. “You don’t like my singing?” Danilo asked, grinning toward Alex in the driver’s seat. “Just don’t think of trying out for The Voice,” Niles said from the backseat, briefly looking up from the game on his phone. “The wild dogs cry out in the niiiight!” Danilo sang. “Oh God. It’s so bad,” Alex said, through a laugh. “And your accent is not helping.” Danilo turned around and looked through the space between his seat and the side of the car. “What about you, Chris? Do you think my singing is all that bad, because I think I’m as good as Toto?” Chris stopped staring out the car window and said, “As good as Toto the dog, maybe.” “Ooooh, burn,” Niles said. “My man said you sound like a dog trying to sing.” “You all should hear my Sam Smith,” Danilo announced. “No!” The other’s said in unison, then burst into laughter. Chris turned back to the window and watched the trees whiz by. The sound of his friend’s conversation melted into background static as he entered a near trance-like state. Ever since he was little, he found it easy to space-out on long car rides, lost in the world of his thoughts. He thought it was strange for them to be invited to Glencross Estate. Evan Glencross and his fraternal twin, Rupert, were only casual acquaintances of the group. They were known through mutual friends and had hung out with them no more than twice all of last semester. The Glencross brothers were seniors, while Chris and his friends were Sophomores, and there was very little fraternizing between the years. The brothers were rich, from old money. They lived on an estate for crying out loud. Chris would be shocked if he and his three friends had $400 in all their bank accounts, combined. But the most glaring difference between the brothers and the friends was physical. Evan and Rupert Glencross were huge. They had the kind of comically big muscles that turned heads and made any man jealous. Both were football stars and very popular with the opposite sex. Chris and his friends were four, short, skinny guys who never touched a weight set they hadn’t been required to in PE class. “Why do you think they invited us, seriously?” Chris asked. “Man, you’re still on that?” Niles looked at him and sucked his teeth. “Who cares why? We’re going to be living like rich people for a weekend.” “He’s scared it’s a prank,” Alex said. “It could be,” said Chris. “Evan and Rupert are nice jocks,” Danilo said. “They will not prank us. Besides, they could have done that on campus.” “Yeah man. Just try to enjoy yourself, for a change.” Niles tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey guys, I think that’s it up ahead,” Alex said. “That place is huge and look at that wall around it,” Niles said with awe. “That thing would give Trump a hardon.” “Imagine being so rich you don’t have a fence; you have a fucking wall,” Alex said, shaking his head. Chris looked out the car’s back window. Then out the side windows. Then out the front window. He smiled. “That’s nothing. Imagine being so rich your driveway is a road.” “Huh?” Danilo said, looking confused. “I just noticed it,” Chris said. “There are no turn-offs on this road and no other houses. And look, it leads straight up to the wall. We’ve been on a private road for a while now.” “Oh shit!” Alex said with a laugh. “Why didn’t I make that connection back there. The road we turned on was called Glen Drive. Duh.” “Another thing I notice,” Chris said. “We’re completely isolated out here.” “Oh, there you go again with the paranoia,” Niles said. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I’m the only black guy, and I’ve watched enough movies to know that if the rich white folks are into freaky shit, I’m the first to go.” He laughed. “And yet I’m as calm as can be.” Alex stopped the car in front of the gate, which Alex assumed was 12 feet tall. It was solid metal, painted black, standing in sharp contrast to the pale stone wall it connected to. Chris eyed a box attached to the wall with a beeping red light, various buttons, and what appeared to be a camera lens. “I guess that thing is the intercom,” Alex said, undoing his seatbelt. “I’m going to press-” Before he could finish his sentence, the tall black gates opened, as if pushed by an invisible giant. “Guess not,” Alex said, buckling his seat belt. He drove through the gates and let out a low “fuck me.” Chris’ jaw dropped. Danilo let out a “woah” Niles clapped his hands together and said, Chris had expected big, but Glencross Manor could only be described as palatial, something you would expect from European royalty, not in New England. It was a mountain of marble and brick assembled in the classical form, a testament to excess and wealth. His eyes were immediately drawn to the mammoth portico. Where you would expect to find roman style columns supporting it, instead there were two massive statues in the form of nude, muscular men with their arms stretched high. The men were more heavily muscled than the Farnese Hercules. “Interesting architectural choice,” Chris said, pointing. “And anatomically correct too.” Niles laughed. The driveway ended in a large circle right in front of the house. There was a red Toyota already there, which Alex parked behind. Chris immediately got out of the car and stared up at the statues: solid marble, stunning detail. He didn’t notice Evan and Rupert Glencross had opened the door and were standing at the entrance, until one of them spoke. “What’s up guys?” Rupert said, in a low base. Chris’ eyes immediately fell on the brothers. Both wore shorts, tanks, and sandals, there muscular frames on full display. They took up every inch of space in the doorway, looking like contest ready bodybuilders. “I’m good parking here?” Alex pointed to the car. “Sure thing,” Evan Glencross said, sauntering down the steps, his voice every bit as deep as his brother’s. The friends and the brothers greeted each other with handshakes and bro hugs. Chris couldn’t help but feel an erection growing in his pants, being so close to all that muscle. Muscle that was attached to two handsome faces. He could never get used to their size. When did these guys start working out? When they were three? They were both a little north of 6’ 3’’ and wide as barn doors. Big enough to make Chris and his friends, not one of whom was over 5’ 6’’, feel like children. When Rupert Glencross shook his hand, his fingers nearly disappeared in the mitten like paw, rough with callouses. And the hug! Like grabbing a sack of boulders covered in skin. He couldn’t help but wonder how many kinds of roids these two handsome freaks were taking. “Thanks again for the invite,” Alex said. The others voiced their agreement, and complimented the home. “No problem, guys,” Evan said. “We just hope you’ll enjoy yourselves.” He ran a hand through his brown hair and flashed a set of pearly whites. “We will,” Niles said. “You guys got a pool?” “Two, one indoor and one outdoor,” Rupert said as he and his brother led the friends inside. “But first, you need to meet our father.” “Is he as big as you guys?” Danilo asked, jokingly. Rupert paused and turned. With a slight grin plastered on his handsome alpha male face, mirrored by his brother, he said, “He’s bigger.” Chapter 2 They followed the hulking brothers across white shining tile, down an expansive hallway, framed in wooden arches. “I honestly expected a butler to greet us at the door,” Niles said. Evan turned his torso slightly and glanced back towards Niles. “All the staff are off for the entire weekend,” he said. “Well, there goes my plans of being waited on hand and foot,” Alex said, laughing. “Don’t worry,” Evan Glencross said, “You all will be taken care of.” Chris stared at him, as he spoke. The sentiment was nice: “you all will be taken care off.” But he didn’t like the way he said it. The tone was filled with a false warmth. It was ominous, more a warning than a comfort. Chris shook his head. That was just his paranoia filling his mind with nonsense. This would be a fun weekend and he would enjoy himself. He repeated that silently, like a mantra. “And here we are,” Rupert said after they had walked God knows how far. He gestured ceremoniously to a large sitting room. “Father, the other guests are here.” Other guests? Chris had assumed it was just his friend group who had been invited for the weekend, then he remembered the other car parked out front. They entered the sitting room and the elder Glencross rose from the wingback chair he had been sitting in. Rupert hadn’t been lying when he said their father was ‘bigger’. He was callosal. The largest, most physically impressive human he had ever seen. From the look of awe on his friends faces, he could tell they felt the same way. “Guys, this is our father, Lawrence,” Rupert said. “Father this is Chris, Danilo, Niles, and Alex.” He pointed to each of the friends in turn. Lawrence Glencross stepped toward them and shook their hands, nearly crushing them with his beartrap like grip. He was handsome for a man near fifty, with short brown hair, greying at the sides. He stood a full head taller than his sons and must have weighed at least 100 pounds more. His khaki chinos and navy tee looked painted on to his lean, hulking physique. Chris didn’t understand how the clothes didn’t burst to shreds at the slighted movement. “Pleasure to meet you boys,” Lawrence said in a deep voice. “You’re huge!” Niles exclaimed, unable to hold in his shock. Lawrence and his sons laughed. “I get that a lot,” Lawrence said, casually bouncing his pecs and flexing his arms. “Do you compete in bodybuilding,” Chris asked, his eyes rolling over the mountain of muscle in front of him, briefly pausing to take in the mammoth bulge in the crotch. “Oh, heavens no,” Lawrence waived his hands dismissively. “Glencross men are just big. Always have been.” He gestured to the wall behind him. Chris noticed it was covered with portraits of men in dress clothes. The oldest were paintings. The newest, photographs. “The men of the Glencross line,” Lawrence said, smiling with pride. Each and every one of them was huge. “Amazing,” Danilo said. “Great genetics,” said Niles. “And other things,” Lawrence said with a smile. Chris assumed he meant steroids at first, but they didn’t have steroids over a 100 years ago. “That accent.” Lawrence turned to Danilo. “Somewhere in Eastern Europe?” “Ukraine,” Danilo said. “Ah, very nice,” Lawrence said. “There are a lot of big men over there. But I see you weren’t blessed in that department. None of you were.” The four friends looked at each other, with confused faces. Lawrence’s face was serious when he spoke. The smile he had, had disappeared. “I guess not,” Alex said, finally, with an uneasy smile. “Make a muscle!” Lawrence commanded. “All of you!” The friends each raised an arm and flexed. Lawrence felt each muscle. His hand could wrap all the way around each arm with ease. “So tiny,” he mumbled. “Can any of you fight?” He raised a fist as big as a ham and bought it down with shocking speed, but stopping short. The four friends flinched. Chris thought he might piss his pants. Lawrence turned to his sons and grinned. “You boys didn’t want a challenge this year, I see. They’re as small as the other two.” “Does it matter?” Evan asked, clearly annoyed. The elder Glencross shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Though, I always found it more fun when they were a bit of a challenge. Oh well. It’s your birthday. You boys do it how you like.” Birthday? “Alex,” Chris whispered, “Did you know it was their birthday?” Alex shook his head. “No.” “I’m a little confused,” Niles said. “What’s going on?” Lawrence smiled. “There’s a game Glencross men can only play on their birthdays. You’ve been invited here to play it. Two other players are already here, taking refreshments out back.” “What kind of game?” Chris eyed him suspiciously. “You’ll see,” Lawrence said, “But first…” He raised a basket. “Put your cell phones in here. The game will test your intelligence so cell phones will allow you to cheat and we can’t have that.” “We’re starting the game now?” Alex asked. “The game started the moment you were invited,” Rupert said. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the phones back, obviously,” He laughed. The friends apprehensively dropped their phones into the basket. “Good!” Lawrence said, setting the basket on a table beside him. “Now boys, show your guests to the back and let the game begin.” Chapter 3 They were led to a large deck, overlooking an expansive back yard. The yard would have been impressive on its own, but it was made more impressive by an expansive hedge row maze the seemed to stretch as far as Chris’ eyes could see, a green sea that must have taken decades to grow. Two other guys were seated at a table on the deck, sipping lemonade and eating from a tray of finger sandwiches. Chris thought he might have seen them around campus before, but didn’t know them. “This is Jeremy,” Evan pointed to an Asian guy on the left, “and this is Mike,” he pointed to a white guy on the right. Both were short and skinny like Chris and his friends. Just what kind of game were they going to play? Chris thought it odd that not a single one of the Glencross’ jock friends was present on their supposed birthday. He expected them to have countless tall, over-muscled buddies to fraternize with. Instead, they choose to hang out with 6 skinny dweebs? Evan introduced the four friend’s and the handshakes started. “Nice to meet you,” Jeremy said, extending his hand toward Chris. “I’ve seen you in the student Union. You’re in the Culinary Club, right.” “I thought I’ve seen you around,” Chris said. “Yeah, I’m in the culinary club.” “Cool.” “While you guys get more acquainted me and my bro are gonna go get ready,” Rupert said. “Help yourselves to the food and drinks.” “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Alex stepped over and took a finger sandwich. Niles and Danilo followed. The brothers stepped back into the house, grinning at each other like they were sharing a silent joke. “So, are you guys good friends with Even and Rupert?” Mike asked. “Not really,” Chris said. “More, acquaintances.” “Weird,” Mike replied, picking up a sandwich. “Neither are we. We just know them casually through a friend of a friend. I was honestly surprised to get an invite.” “Yeah,” Jeremy said, with a mouthful, “But who could pass-up a chance to spend a weekend in a place like this, for free.” He gestured to the estate. “Right,” Danilo nodded, stuffing his mouth. “Father’s a little weird, though,” Alex whispered, stifling a laugh. Everyone nodded their agreement. “Did he comment on your size, too?” Chris asked Jeremy. “Yeah, it was weird.” He frowned slightly. “Like, dude, I get it, you’re huge, but not all of us can be a giant.” “Oh shit,” Mike said, nearly choking. He glanced up and Chris followed his gaze, as did the others. Lawrence Glencross was standing in the window overlooking the deck, staring at them, expressionless. When he saw them looking, he closed the curtain and disappeared behind a panel of white. The group shared a look, then burst into laughter. All except Chris, who merely smiled nervously. “Hey guys!” A deep voice boomed behind them. The group turned away from the table of refreshments to find Evan and Rupert bounding out the door. Chris’ eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw what the twins were wearing: skimpy black posing trunks that struggled to contain their massive packages, and nothing else. Every inch of their huge, muscular bodies was exposed, each muscle group bouncing and flexing as they walked across the deck. “What. The. Fuck?” Alex said. Everyone’s mouth was agape. “Oh shit, the white people are into some freaky shit. I’m screwed.” Niles mumbled beneath his breath, just loud enough for the group to hear, but not the Twins. The Glencross brothers beamed, grinning like clowns, obviously enjoying the reaction their insanely developed physiques were getting from the skinny guys assembled before them. They bounced their bulbous pecs and hit a few poses. Chris could feel his cock stiffening again. He adjusted it discretely and noticed others in the group were doing the same. How could you not get hard when witnessing such a display of the perfect male form. The twins were enjoying themselves as well, sporting bulges that threatened to pop their skimpy posers right off. “We’re so big, bro,” Evan said. “Yeah.” Rupert grunted, flexing harder. “And we’re gonna get bigger.” “So big.” Evan slapped his brother’s delt. “Yeah! So fucking big!” Chris saw a wet spot forming in Rupert’s posers. Was he leaking pre-cum? Was he getting that turned on by his and his brother’s size? What the fuck was going on? And why were they invited? “This is weird,” Danilo whispered. “Agreed,” Chris said, his eyes fixed on the rippling mounds of muscle before him. The brothers were lost in a trance like state, of flexing and grunting, loudly expressing their desire for more size, and getting more turned on as they did it. They flexed so hard, they began to sweat in the late morning sun. One would slap the other and then vice versa. They were getting themselves worked up, pumped for something. And then it was over. The brothers faced the group, grinning and panting, skin red and glistening. “You ready to start the game?” Rupert looked over them. “What’s the game?” Mike asked. “And why are you dressed like that?” Alex gestured to their pumped-up bodies. “And most importantly, what did we just watch?” Niles said, shaking his head, a hardon visible in his pants. The brothers looked at each other and laughed. “The game is called ‘You vs Our Muscles,’” Evan said. “It used to be played in the house, a long time ago, but the maze was put in 50 years ago and it’s been played outside ever since. The maze starts here at the deck and exits all the way over there, by the woods. As you can see, there’s no way around the house from this point. The only place to go is through the maze. The object of the game is to make it through the maze without getting caught by me or my brother. We’re dressed like this because clothing would get way to constrictive-” “And we don’t want to get our clothes dirty,” Rupert chimed in. Evan nodded, “Yeah, that too. This game gets messy. What you just saw was us getting hyped up to win.” He made a fist and slapped it into his other hand. “Understand.” The group stared at each other, a little confused. It sounded simple enough, but it was still so strange. “it’s like a fancy game of tag,” Mike said. “What happens if you catch one of us?” “You versus our muscles, happens,” Even said. “Mike, you come here, and we’ll show you guys. The rest of you stand by the entrance to the maze and be ready to start.” Everyone did as commanded by the muscle-god brother. Chris stood dead center in the middle of the five by the maze entrance, staring up at the deck. Mike stood in front of the brothers, looking like a child compared to them. Their arms were as thick as his legs. Their pecs, as big as his head. His twig like body looked frail in comparison to the towering twins. “If this is a test of strength, I think you guys are going to win.” Mike laughed. “Just stand still and shut up,” Even said, grabbing hold of Mike’s left arm. Rupert took his right. The brothers then placed a hand on each side of Mikes head, with their thumbs locked under his chin. Their comically huge hands each covered a whole side of his skull. “High five, bro,” Evan said. “High five.” Rupert grinned. Chris watched as the brother’s arms tensed. Muscle striations appeared through the skin; veins popped out in high relief. Mike’s feet left the ground. Up, up, up. Two feet in the air. He kicked and flayed, as the skin on his face wrinkled, smooshing together. “Guys, this… hurts, aah,” Mike struggled to say through gritted teeth. “What are you doing!” Jeremy shouted. “Holy shit!” Danilo backed away. Niles and Alex stared on with equal parts confusion and revulsion. Mike’s little body shook, struggling to fight against the towers of muscle holding him, but his arms were locked. He could only kick air. He let out grunts of pain, followed by an agonizing scream as the brother’s press harder on his skull, their muscles rippling with power. “This isn’t cool!” Alex shouted. “You’ll kill him!” Jeremy darted up the stairs. Chris reached out, trying to grab him, fearing what would happen, but he was to slow. Jeremy made it to the top of the stairs but took a kick to the torso from Rupert’s massive foot. He flew back and landed in Alex and Chris’ arms. Jeremy panted, struggling to reclaim the air that had been knocked out of him. Then Chris heard it. The crunch. Mikes skull cracked. He watched blood poor from his friend’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Mike went silent, His face, now disfigured, and brain, squished in. “High five!” The brothers exclaimed in unison as Mikes eyes bulged from his head and his skull completely gave way, popping like a stepped-on grape. His skinny body went limp as the brothers were given a blood shower by Mike’s spurting arteries. Their hands were pressed together, up in the air, covered in bone, blood, brains, and Mike’s skin. They lowered their arms and looked down at the five skinny guys, cowering in fear and shock. Chris’ eyes grew wide as saucers. His jaw went slack. No fucking way, he thought as he watched the blood on the brother’s bodies disappear, absorbed into their skin. And the growth…They were growing! Evan and Rupert moaned in pleasure, their bodies shaking, as they swelled, muscles getting more developed and veinier. “Each time we kill, we grow,” Rupert said, as the now more massive brothers stepped slowly towards them. “But only on our birthdays.” Evan said. “That’s the secret of Glencross men.” “But, we like the thrill of the hunt,” Rupert said, with a sadistic smile, “So run! Run for your pathetic little lives. We’re giving you a head start.” He raised his arms and flexed; the muscles of his arms looked like it might burst through his skin. “All this muscle is coming for you.” The group scampered into the maze. Danilo fell to his knees and wretched, but Alex grabbed his arm, dragging him along, leaving a trail of throw-up in his wake. “We should fight them!” Jeremy shouted, and Chris pushed him forward. “Not without a plan,” Chris said. As he moved through the walls of green, Chris heard a faint deep voice call behind them. He couldn’t make out what had been said, or even which brother had said it, but it didn’t matter. His focus was ahead, toward the end of the maze, toward survival.
  5. Hello yall! First time I post a story here I believe! For Halloween, this year, I've been working on making a transformation/growth-mystery story (based on the murder-mystery genre) and thought I could post it here if some of yall are into that! This series will have show multiple takes on masculinization, mostly about making huge, beefy and muscled bearish guys. If that's your thing and you like some story plot around the meat, here's something for you! I think I will add the next chapters on this thread, so you won't have to look around the forums for the previous instalment if needed. Without further ado, here's the prologue to the story! ***Disclaimer: the prologue does not contain sex scenes or physical changes yet, but serves as an introduction to the ten characters and to set the story context. Synopsis: Ten young, homophobic adults gather for Halloween. At 10 PM, lights shut off, phones fry up, game starts and none can leave. What’s more, it seems there is one imposter among them. Can they make it out until morning? What is this “game” all about anyway? ~ One of Us ~ Prologue ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:00 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The full moon forecasted on Halloween, a Saturday, promised a memorable night… if it was not for the whole pandemic thing. Halloween couldn’t just be cancelled. There could have been a tornado or an earthquake and the festivities would have still happened. Who cared for a stupid invisible virus! It was a mild evening by the Wrights’ house on the outskirts of Austin Town. Dimitri, a tall twenty-year-old who lifted weights daily had invited a couple of buddies for Halloween. He didn’t care for the pandemic and had the mansion by himself since his parents were out of town — he forgot exactly where. But all he cared for, in the moment, was throwing the party with his friends. He put on a cowboy hat, a checkered vest and a pair of faded jeans to look the part. The only boots he found around his home were his father’s 13s, which felt tight on the sides for his big boy ones. After all, he was two inches taller than his six-foot dad. The mansion hall was grandiose, looking as if it came from a movie or catalogue. A big staircase sculpted into rich oak wood crept the left wall of the hall and led to the upper rooms. On the right wall, a more discreet yet still impressive staircase led down to the basement, where the theatre room and the home bar would receive the guests later during the night. Next to the last staircase, wide double doors opened on a spacious living room. A fireplace took place on the left wall, right next to a sturdy door, and under a big plasma TV. Two long couches surrounded a glass table at the centre of the room, onto which half a dozen big bowls were filled with candies and chips. Against the farther wall, a tennis table had been set up by the garage door, onto which red plastic cups had been piled. Right next to the table, Dimitri’s best friend Asher was sitting on a stool with a beer can in hand. The 5′9″ man did not wait for other guests to show up before cracking up a beer and taking a handful of chips. He was dressed up in camo clothes and a war helmet — which consisted of a grotesquely painted bicycle helmet. The man scrolled through the song playlist in his phone, plugged into the speakers, hanging in the high corners of the room. He had created a selection of spooky and Halloween-themed song to play, but had somehow managed to either lose or erase it. To his feet under the table, Dimitri had a cooler which contained the few six-packs of beers he’s brought along for the night — probably the only six-pack thing about the bulky guy. Whereas Asher did not have abdominals to show, the bearded redhead had his own share of strength. Asher was telling his friend the latest conquest he’s had when a loud booming car entered the driveway. The two men looked through the wide windows of the living room, noticing how more of the guests arrived. Two more men and their girlfriends walked out of the car. The two girls were the first to get out, a short yet curvy dirty blond and a tall svelte latina with jet black hair. A short man on the passenger side joined the girl of similar height while the driver, a giant although quite lanky young man, turned the ignition off and joined with the crew. “Yo! Is that the double Js!” Asher called out through the window with a tipsy laugh, before following the host back in the hall to greet the guests. “In the flesh and the hair!” The taller man — Sebastian Joseph — replied with a wide grin over his stubbly face, ruffling his head full of shaggy chestnut hair for effect. The other shorter guy — Theodore James — walked with a crate full of beers, letting out an enthusiastic “got the booze” to the host. Albeit not dressed in their costumes yet, the quartet had a few bags with them, giving the impression they would change once inside. “Need help with something, boys?” The raven-haired girl asked with a giggle. “I do, Mathy, but I doubt your ‘tall-boi’ here would agree to share ya with me.” Asher chuckled before receiving a playful blow from giga-Seb on the shoulder. The girls jiggled between each other at the display of rough masculinity between the guys. Theo made himself silent as he brought the beer and his backpack inside. “Perhaps Theo might be more compliant on the deal with Jenny, though.” The womanizer grinned as he sized up the short blond. “Don’t you dare touching my girl, bro!” Theodore shouted from the inside. “Bro, just keep your dick in your pants.” Dimitri slapped his best friend teasingly on the back as he was taking a sip of beer, resulting in him spitting some down. “Dude, bro! Don’t do that! You can’t waste that shit!” Asher dramatized as booze also leaked into his beard and camo vest. In the middle of laughs, the short girl asked if there was a room where they could get changed. “Yeah, there’s a bathroom in the corridor behind the stairs.” Dimitri pointed at the staircase. “First door to your left, girls.” “Need some assistance, girls?” Asher joked again. “We’ll be fine, dickhead.” Jenny rolled her eyes, although still amused. “Come on, Mathilda.” “You’ll see, boys. Once we’ll be out, you’ll be the ones asking for our help!” The latina giggled, winking at them before following her bossy little friend. “I’ll be waiting for that!” Asher exclaimed, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. “Dude, have you gotten laid recently?” Sebastian elbowed the bulky womanizer. “I did, but that pandemic thing right now is really killing my strike. Can’t believe there’s so many scared pussies around. It’s terrifying for the male race, dude.” “Unless you’re a fag, bro!” Sebastian chuckled. “Aww, fuck off, dude!” Asher smirked before finishing his beer. “Hmm… let me get myself another one. Or just come in and get one yourself.” The three guys went into the living room, where Theodore was missing. “Theo? Buddy? Where’re you at?” Dimitri called the little guy. “I think he went for the kitchen.” Sebastian said, pulling a furry toque from the bag in his hands. “Alright, I’m gonna check on him if he needs anything.” Dimitri left his two friends going in the living room and went for the double doors leading to the left of the hall. He entered a large dining room with a long table that could welcome a dozen people to eat. He remembered how his mother, a judge in the federal court, used to make parties with her colleagues years ago. The expanse of the furniture in the room proved to be useful when his brother or himself invited friends over. The host walked past a second fireplace in the dining room until he reached a broad door leading into the kitchen. Right by the counter, Theodore was looking as if he was texting someone. “Hey, dude, what are you doing?” Theo startled at the question, not realizing someone had walked in on him. He turned around with a blush on his face and a nervous laugh. “Hey! I… didn’t hear you walking in.” “Bro… I know this face! Who were you talking to?” Dimitri asked with a coy grin, lowering his voice. “No one!” Theo brushed off, storing his phone back into his pocket and proceeding to store some food and booze in the fridge for later tonight. “Your call, dude!” Dimitri lifted his hands in acceptance. “C’mon and get your ass in the room with the boys! Let’s get this party going!” Right on cue, Asher’s spooky music started blowing through the speakers of the living room. As they joined Asher and Seb, the two men were just starting a beer pong game. Seb had put on the toque on his head and a plaid jacket on top of his now naked chest. The lanky giant had a few sparse chest hair and a meagre treasure trail, but little to no definition whatsoever. To complement the look, he even had an axe which he let by the couch for the moment. “Hope you don’t mind the view, guys!” Sebastian mocked by faking a striptease. “You’re such a dork, Seb!” Theo guffawed at the ridicule of his friend. “Hey, not my fault if no one can resist me! Remember that gay dude in High School, guys?” “That was fucking hilarious!” The short guy laughed at the memory. “SUP, BITCHES!” A voice echoed from the hall. The crew turned around and greeted with enthusiasm the arrival of a new party member. Already wearing his costume, Wesley entered the place like he owned it. The man was wearing old ratty and torn clothes as well as a puffy hat. His face looked even paler than usual and large dark circles surrounded his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in ages. “What are you dressed as, my old Wes?” Sebastian asked with a toothy grin, welcoming him with an arm around the shoulders. “A tramp?” “Funny one, Seb! Nah, I’m more like an undead or zombie kinda thing. Or a Frankenstein, whatever.” “Actually, Frankenstein is the scientist and not the monster.” Theodore intervened. “I doubt you meant the—…” “Ahh shut up, nerd. You know who I’m talkin’ about.” Wes spited in annoyance. “Hey, play cool, guys.” Dimitri chuckled. “Say, how about we play some beer pong?” “Well, I think I’m gonna take a shit while you’re debating what you’re gonna do.” Asher said. “That’s fucking nasty, dude!” Seb grimaced and chuckled at the same time. “Guess you’ll have to take the downstairs one, dude. The bitches are taking their sweet fucking time here.” Dimitri said, just loud enough so that the girls in question could hear his comment. “Tie a knot with your dicks if you can’t wait, fuckers!” They heard back from the bathroom, probably from Jennifer. “Are we having some single ladies tonight?” Wes asked with a devious grin plastered on his face, idly rubbing his crotch. “Apparently not, bro.” Asher sympathized with a shoulder pat as he walked past him. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:30 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It was pretty annoying how, despite the good insulation of the house, Larry could still hear the noise of his big brother’s party upstairs. With the pandemic stuff going on, he would have thought he could just spend a nice calming night playing videogames just as he always does. Oh well. The six-foot eighteen years old stretched into his gaming chair, dropping his Xbox controller on his lap. While he used to be a regular gym goer, the pandemic had benefited him and his brother with buying gym equipment. Well, it was their parents who actually paid, but that was beside the point. Between gaming and working out, Larry had grown a more athletic shape without even needing to leave the house. Sure, he wanted to eventually achieve thick proportions like Dimitri, who could almost pass for a bodybuilder now, but he believed he’d get there sooner or later. “Yo! Lar!” A voice boomed into the room as the door barged opened. The young man jumped with surprise at the sudden outburst. He turned around, mostly nude except from an old stained pair of boxer shorts covering his junk. There, in the entrance, stood Asher, booze in hand, laughing. “Phew! Glad I didn’t barge into you whacking off again!” The trickster exclaimed. “Get the fuck out!” Larry snapped, beet red. Larry grabbed onto the first object he didn’t value much — an empty beer can — and threw it at his brother’s friend, who closed the door just in time. The gamer heard the man step away, still laughing. His heartbeat was still high, but Larry was calming down. He turned back to his station and tried changing games, only to remember his account had been suspended from Fortdey. “Guess I’ll just play some Olah Reach.” The teen shrugged, scratching at the rough stubble he had not shaved in days. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:45 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “How do I look?” Mathilda asked to her friend as she applied the makeup. “You’re looking like a queen.” Jennifer complimented, finally stepping and showing her the result. The Latina beamed with joy at her display in the mirror. She looked just like Cleopatra. As for her shorter pal, she had disguised herself with a little white dress and brought her hair into a green flowery bulb on top of her head. Pink heels, transparent wings and a rooty wand complemented her appearance as a forest fairy. “Ready to show off to the boys?” Jennifer enticed. “You bet your ass, girl!” “Let’s get a round of salute!” “Heeeere we coooome!” Mathilda announced to the guys as they walked out into the lobby. Crossing the hall into the living room, the chicks were greeted with a series of wolf whistles and acclamations. Since the moment they entered the bathroom, a few more guests had joined the party. In addition to Wes, two more men had arrived. One of them was Braxton, an ex-neighbour of Dimitri, who moved before High School. Tall and wide-shouldered, he was almost matching Dimitri’s body builder size at about 250 pounds. Member of the football team back then, and again in college, Braxton had decided against all originality to disguise himself as a footballer for Halloween. “Talk about original, huh, Brax?” Jennifer snarked. “That’s because you’ve not seen anything yet, little girl.” He chuckled, removing his helmet. Right under the headwear, the sportsman had apparently covered his face in makeup to look like some werewolf. He had even added pointy ears and fake fangs to complement the disguise. “Wow! I must say I’m surprised you actually put some effort in your costume.” Mathilda nodded. “Hmm, yeah, I agree.” Her friend approved. “Now, does any of you wants to play with the big wolf on campus? Grrrr!” The jock joked as he acted the part. “Only if you want me to turn you into a cute puppy!” Jennifer said with a smile, raising her wand to playfully poke the footballer’s nose. “Oh! Turn him into a cat! It would look great with my costume!” The Cleopatra giggled along. “You girls are helpless!” The last guest spoke, disguised as Captain America. With his blond hair and chiselled jaw, devoid of any, the man actually looked like the Steve Rogers from the Marvel comics. Albeit a little shorter than the canon superhero, the second jock was still taller than average at 5′11″ and he depicted a stature that testified countless hours dedicated to the gym. “Victor! It’s been so long since I last saw you!” The short fairy exclaimed. “Victor?! Damn, dude, what are you on?! Tell me that’s part of the costume!” Mathilda gasped, putting a hand on her chest as she observed the massive bulk threatening the sleeves to tear. “That’s all me, ladies!” Victor laughed with his loud rich voice, flexing a bicep for evidence. The girls could almost hear in their head the seams about to rip as he tensed the enormous arm, unfortunately inaudible through the booming music. “I’ve been hitting the gym pretty hard, you see, babes?” “You can show off all you want, bro, but you ain’t got nothing on these guns!” Braxton chimed in, pushing his longtime friend aside to flex. “At least I’ve still got abs, bro!” Victor scoffed at him by shaking the soft midsection. “Put your faggy hands away, bro! It’s padding for the field!” “Sure, bro. Sure. Just be careful so that I don’t mistake you for a bear next time we go hunting, bro!” The two teasing jocks gave each other a few hits before erupting with laughter. However, when they turned around to see the girls, they had since long left them to their silly talk. They had joined in with Dimitri to play beer pong — their boyfriends nowhere to be found. The two meatheads exchanged a wolfish grin and went after the two women, intent on playing a few drinking ones with them. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 9:15 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Settled in the study, Sebastian and Wesley had been smoking and relaxing aside from the main events of the party, taking some time to catch up. Ever since Wesley has moved district with his parents as a teen, the two of them hadn’t seen each other as much as they used to in elementary school. They ended growing up in quite different neighbours. While Sebastian had lived in a middle-class environment, Wesley had been subjected to a rather lower one. Sebastian never really knew why Wes’s folks relocated there, but suspected they might have struggled financially. The roughness of these new surroundings perhaps contributed to Wes becoming reckless and carefree in the last couple weeks, such as starting taking and exchanging drugs and booze. Nonetheless, he was still Sebastian’s old friend and the tall lad just simply couldn’t forget the strong bond they’ve built up many years ago. The two men were chilling peacefully when the door to the study opened by Theodore, dressed as a wizard with a blue robe and hat. The short pal had put on a ridiculous fake white beard, but had it off in his hands, the material itching him after a while. Even if he wasn’t fond of having his glasses daily — usually opting for contacts — Theo had decided to put on the nerdy eyewear his parents shamefully bought him a couple months ago, before the pandemic happened. “There you are, guys!” Theo blurted out. “We were looking for you everywhere! Well, technically, I was the one who… whatever. Anyway, what are you doing here?” “Whether you in or out, just close the damn door!” Wes grumbled. Theo blushed red and shut it after stepping inside. Already, the strong aroma of weed hit his nose. The smell didn’t disgust him, but he couldn’t help being rational about it. “Guys, you know that thing fries your brain cells, right?” “Doesn’t take any to say you’re an annoying little twat.” The drug addict chimed. “Hey, hey…” Seb spoke before the tension arose — he pulled the handmade fag from his mouth and offered it to his standing pal by the door. “Take it and sit down with us, bro.” Imitating an obedient puppy, Theo bowed his head down slightly in submission and listened to Seb’s command like an order. After Theo sat and brought the joint to his lips, taking a puff. Wesley glared at his childhood friend, unhappy with Seb’s decision to hand out his weed stash to anyone. “There, buddy. Chill a bit with us, alright, pal?” Seb smirked as he rolled himself another fag on the old walnut desk. “Dude! Don’t you go giving my stuff to everyone here tonight, bro!” Wesley vocalized. “Calm down, Wes. That’s my little buddy Theo and I love him to death! No homo, tho, bro!” Seb chuckled as he lighted the new cig. “You’re so gay, dude.” Theo rolled his eyes. “Good thing Dimi’s a cowboy tonight.” Wesley added, setting back in the leather chair behind the computer desk. “If we’ve got a fag slipping in, that gun might have some use.” “Dude, that’s not a bit radical?” Theo frowned. “Don’t get me wrong — I don’t approve of their lifestyle choice, but we kinda need these guys in society too.” Wesley gave him a dark eye. He aggressively took his beer can on the expansive desk. “Name me one thing this garbage is good for.” He spitted out of spite. “Well… I kinda need someone to make my coffee at McDonald’s.” Theo sniggered. “And that means more girls for us.” The scorn on the drug addict’s face shifted into a scary smile as he burst into laughter. “Dude! Seb, is that the Theo guy you talked about?” “In the flesh!” Sebastian gestured like a show master. “I guess you were right. Even nerds can be funny sometimes. Maybe there’s hope for the male race after all!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 9:45 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ A party wouldn’t just be one without playing flip-the-cup. Braxton and Victor had both removed their headwear to facilitate the downing of their beer cups against the two girls with whom the competed. Mathilda now used her majestic faux-golden staff more like a cane rather than an artifact for her costume — she barely could stand anymore. Jennifer, on the other hand, had better alcohol retention, but she kept jiggling and spilling beer on the sticky table and floor. The hair she had earlier shaped into a beautiful flower bulb had lost it dynamism and now looked like a greenish muffin top. While the girls were winning another round against the jocks, Asher and Dimitri just arrived on the first floor, having dragged up a foosball table from the home bar downstairs. The guys walked across the hall into the living room where the heart of the party was beating full mast. “Foosball time!” Dimitri and Asher shouted in chorus before bursting into laughter like a buffoon duo. The call was hyping the guests enough that even the smoking trio in the study left their cave to join in the fun. The games started as teams of two, until Mathilda had the brightest idea in the world and everyone held on to only one rotator, making sides of four instead. It was crowded and people kept bickering and shoving each other out of the way, but it provided a lot of fun nonetheless. As a good host, Dimitri gave his place to his eight guests until Wesley grew bored with the game and lie back on one of the couches. Mathilda was questioning herself about her idea when a repetitive soft tug in her hair starting annoying her. She thought her hair had tangled into her costume, but when she turned around, she met with a white ghostly face screaming at her. Her shriek made everyone look for her and begin to laugh as the Latina slipped on the wet floor and fell on her ass. Right behind her stood a tall person dressed in robes as dark as night, with the mask of Ghostface, holding in a knife in its hand. The figure was soon grabbed into a headlock by Dimitri, then Braxton, the three of them slipping on the ground as well. The two brutes had the stalker under control until they also heard the laughs coming from underneath the costume. “You should have seen her face!” The voice guffawed. “Larry? What the fuck, bro!” Dimitri exclaimed in shock, but soon after joined in the laugh. The two men on top of him moved and the host took his little brother’s hand to help him back up. Mathilda, embarrassed to no end, snapped with anger, failing to stand by keeping on slipping on the beer-covered floor. “You’re such a creep!” She pestered at him, red with humiliation. Jennifer tried pulling her back up via the Egyptian staff — while her boyfriend was laughing out loud — but the two girls ended falling on top of each other. “Jenny — ouch! Seb — DO SOMETHING! You, fucker! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you ALL! All of you!” “Alright, alright.” Sebastian complied, walking to help his lover up. “That was a good one, bro!” Dimitri approved, giving Larry a brotherly slap on the back. “Though you should run away while you can!” “I was just coming to get a few snacks before my raid.” Larry pulled his mask off, beaming a content smile. “Well, you—…” Lights went off abruptly. Music faded into nothingness. Total darkness invaded the space. The surprised cries and exclamations were absorbed into the thick void surrounding the party members. Dimitri tried to bring back the attention to him when, out of a sudden, the fireplace lightened by itself, diffusing a dimmed orange hue to the vast living room. “What the fuck is going on?!” Dimitri blurted out in confusion. “HELLO.” A distorted voice echoed from the corners of the room and from within each present individual. The first one to take his phone out was Theo, who attempted to use its flashlight. Only then did he realize his screen looked glitched out — the alien sound came from its small speakers. “What… guys! My phone’s bugged!” “Fucking hell?! Mine too!” Braxton added before the distorted voice spoke again. “Tonight is not like any others. The ten of you gathered here is no mere coincidence. Each of you, to an extent depicted examples of homophobic bigotry against people, which lead to the self-destruction and suffering of poor, weaker-minded individuals.” “Where the fuck are you?” Seb asked aloud, taking in his hands the axe he’s left by the couch earlier. “Show yourself!” The voice continued: “Braxton Bellman — your jealousy against Richard Biggs making the football team only fuelled your homophobic bigotry to kick him out. But the school wouldn’t let him out because he was the best player. So, you made sure to ‘accidentally’ have his leg broken so that he couldn’t play on the team anymore. Did that bitter win in your hollow head made up for all the further matches your team lost? Victor Fortune — whilst you confidently say you are a handsome fuck machine, you had often pushed back the advances of numerous people because of their skin colour or orientation. You never miss a chance to proudly display your confederation flag to show much of a white suprematist you are. You used your straight white cis male privileges to influence many peers as the representative student in school, disrespecting whoever didn’t share the same traits as yours. Theodore James — you do not exert physical violence to assert your intolerance, but you rather attack psychologically your victims. The shameful names and stereotypes you call them instead of the proper ones make them all the more vulnerable to others who would act brutally. Sebastian Joseph — in any room you go, you attract anyone’s eyes. You are the tall, charismatic, person any man or woman would love to spend a good time with. However, this handsome shell of yours hides a dark soul. In pure malice, you used your good looks to flirt with Henri Thompson, just to play him out as a whole joke in front of the school. That man still is afraid to date anyone today. Mathilda Lopez — instead of sympathizing with your ex-boyfriend Greg when he confided you with his bisexuality, you acted like the worst bitch ever. Not only you broke up with him, but you leaked multiple personal pics of him on social media, shaming him for his sexual orientation as well, resulting in having him brutalized and sent to the ER. He is still in the coma to this day. Wesley Peterson — you are a dropout and a thug who doesn’t give a damn about anyone other than himself. You vandalized Oliver McClay’s car and locker with graffiti in High School, showing the world that he was homosexual. Know that Oliver McClay took his own life a month after changing school. Asher Ship — your homophobic bigotry against your younger brother Ken has led him into clinical depression. This led him to grow overweight and develop paranoia. He even tried to take his own life numerous times, almost succeeding more than once. It’s a miracle of sorts if he is still alive today. Jennifer Taylor — nobody can confide you anything. When Roger Mayer shared you his biggest secret that he was a homosexual, you betrayed him and told others. No longer a mystery, Roger’s parents eventually heard about it, making his life as miserable at home as he’s had it at school. Say, when was the last time you talked with Roger? Were you even his friend? Dimitri Wright — host of the night, you clearly selected your guests carefully. Your fingers probably don’t make up for the number of wedgies you’ve given those homosexuals and intellectuals in school. You’re a leader, but you used your diplomatic gifts to bully others rather than implementing justice. Perhaps it’s time to turn the tables? Finally, Larry Wright — just like your brother Dimitri, you have deeply rooted homophobia. If you come across a gay guy in your Fortdey servers, you don’t hesitate to shame and tag them, taking mischievous pleasure in bashing and blackmailing them. Sucks when the servers suspend your account for inappropriate actions, does it?” A hard-felt silence weighed on the ten young adults, to which Wes blurted out: “So fuckin’ what?!” before being hushed at. “Now that your facets are displayed on the table, let’s play a little game, shall we? If you can make it intact by six in the morning, I will let you go. Oh, but we can’t allow cheater, don’t we? No one can leave the house grounds. No electricity, no data. Cheating or sleeping through the night will immediately result in a person losing. Also, let’s spice things up a bit. Anyone who loses can make others lose as well. Among the ten of you, there is one who knows what’s going on — an imposter of sorts. Will you find who fakes this out? Finding it out might make you win earlier than sunrise, but a wrong answer will result in another loss. Good luck.” The speakers shut, and so did all their phones — batteries fried up.
  6. (So, this is my little Halloween tale. It gets pretty spooky on campus where I am, so this was a bit of inspiration for the story) ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I don’t know how to say this without sounding fucking dumb but I think I need to tell someone before the worst happens… so I’m going to say it anyway: I’m afraid of going to the bathroom here in my dorm. I’m well aware of how stupid that sounds but if anyone finds this I want some kind of clue for whoever finds this log. What I hate the most is that this nightmare that I know is coming for me hides in the most unremarkable setting and there’s no way anyone will understand. I should’ve listened to my friends enrolling last fall and stayed out of this damn building. I really should have. My name is Lenny. If I was cooler like the rest of the guys on this floor I’m sure everyone would call me ‘Leo’, but I’m just a lanky freshman who can’t manage to make enough friends here at school. You know, they told me it would get better while I was picking up my textbooks off the floor a few days before graduation, but I still think about the assholes who used to bully me even as a high-school senior. I got good grades and managed to get myself a good scholarship to come here and study fine arts (I want to be an illustrator someday). Fuck it all, though, because when I came here I enrolled with assholes from their respective hometowns around the state. Oh, and I was so excited to be moving into the Arts & Design community building on campus. I was assigned to live with artists, writers, and graphic design students from the entire university. As my luck would have it the building flooded in my wing and due to the massive influx of new students I had to move into a new location… They gave me three choices then. I could pay an extra few thousand dollars to move into the newest dormitory on campus (Crowne, which I don’t have the money for), hope for the best in the freshmen ‘Discovery’ dormitory (Laurel- it was already packed and would place me on the eight floor with no elevator), or move into Helena… Helena was the second dorm ever made on campus and was still in commission. At first I thought all three of my options sucked but the school actually offered to waive my room expense so I would only pay for my meal plan on campus. They told me my scholarship covered this and Laurel would receive the same bonus. After I learned Helena’s dining hall was an up-scale buffet (well, at least for a college campus) and the rooms were a third bigger than anywhere else on campus, I took it. I ended up having to room with someone else but I didn’t care too much at the time. Kyle’s a really nice guy, actually, but that’s not the problem. I remember telling my few friends from high school I was moving into the building and most of them expressed joy- the building was rather pretty for a dormitory and you even got a sink in your room. The lobby looked like it belonged in an old Jane Austen film- the molding covered everything and they had an antique grand piano donated by some big-shot in the 50s. There were only three floors and only one of them was designated for guys (the first floor was for students 21 and over and the top floor was for girls). I was rather excited until Tanesha told me about the spooks in the halls. Everyone knew about the few weird stories around campus and how our school was known for strange occurrences and even paranormal activity. I don’t believe in any of that stuff… or I hadn’t, so I told her to not worry. We’d already sneaked into the library at night hoping to see the frosty janitor from 87’ on the roof and nothing had ever happened then. Nothing had happened these few nights after moving in. Nothing would ever happen at all. I was an idiot. And at this point, I wish I was dealing with a ghost. Or a monster. I don’t know. Something tangible! Something I could maybe fight off, or fight back. God, I’m so fucking scared. I know it’s going to happen soon if I don’t move out of this building. I don’t want to disappear… The first time I had the dream was about a week after moving in. Kyle (my roommate) may be a football player but he’s a nice guy and if anything I worried I might be taking advantage of his southern hospitality. He introduced me to his girlfriend and everything. The other guys aren’t too awful on this floor, either, albeit to a lesser extent. A lot of them are older and belong to fraternities from all around campus. They tend to be loud and annoying. A few of them are genuine shit-holes and they remind me of high school the most. They haven’t done anything terrible to me but they talk shit about women and pour ramen juice down the drinking fountains. I fucking hate that. The dream is always the same. I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes if I’m lucky- that way I don’t get to the worst part. At first I didn’t get very far in the dream, either. I just got a sense of dread from the beginning of the pattern. I would always wander the long hallways of the building in the dream before entering the poorly-lit bathroom. I have been losing sleep because of it, at this point. I always wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. For some reason, Kyle’s out of the room. He tends to sleep over at his girl’s so I stress even more when I know he’ll be gone the following night. I stumble out of bed, dry like a bone and needing to use the bathroom. Bear with me, I know this sounds rather normal… I get up and open the door, the lights in the hall flickering on and off… on and off… I’m usually in a graphic t-shirt with my favorite anime characters splattered on- that and basketball shorts so I don’t have to worry about being indecent in front of anyone. The dream is so real, I usually just wear the same thing. Most of the time I wouldn’t want my RA to talk to me (she’s really loud) but when I’m normally awake I pray she’ll stop me from going further down the corridor. She’s never doing her rounds in my dream. I simply drag my feet to the bathroom and go on about my business. Then it happens. I finish and I decide to sit down. I’m half-asleep anyway, but I try to stay awake and hold myself up by placing my hands on the stall’s plastic walls. I can definitely feel my head tilt back and forth as if I’ve gone into a trance or something... that’s when I start to change. I breathe in a long, heavy gasp and let out an even longer sigh of relief. It feels like coming out of a pool, as if I’ve never breathed before. My head then tilts backward so I can face the buzzing lamp above my stall, but my eyes close. I can feel the slight tingle run through the veins of my feet and upward. My hands slide up the walls slightly, feeling the coldness of the outside winds whisk through the frigid bathroom. The tingle makes my toes wiggle as I spread my legs apart a bit more. At first it feels like my blood is pumping faster. I breathe a little heavier when the tingle runs through my groin… I hate how much I enjoy the sensation as it vibrates through my spindly legs. With a slight jerk my knees twitch and the tendons around them make me jitter for a quick second. I can’t explain it really well, but it’s like taking a deep breathe that you don’t let go of without choking. I breathe out just fine, but I do sense something else. The feeling pervades within me and I finally recognize that I’m… well…. that I’m getting bigger. The pulse continues running up my root and I can’t help but moan. Nobody’s in the bathroom, I just moan softly enough to sense my cock twitching in my shorts. It starts running up my back, like warm water at this point massaging my under my skin. My stomach heats up along as I tilt my head to the side, my body slouching almost off of the toilet. The warmth starts becoming even hotter as I sense my head plunging into the sensation, my shoulders rolling back a bit to enjoy it too. The moment I feel it twitching through my arms I can tell my veins are pumping with warmth to my fingers. At this point you must be thinking I enjoy this. I ultimately don’t… At least not when I’m awake. I don’t know why it feels so good when I’m in the dream. It just does. At first I wondered why I was so scared of getting to the bathroom if all I would do is wake up with a pair of sticky boxers in the morning. Kyle didn’t seem to notice so at least I wasn’t making noises in my sleep. Everything continued as normal and he even invited me to join the inter-mural volleyball team for our dorm. Due to my lack of coordination I had to decline. There was just something inherently wrong with the dream, though. I knew that. It was as if I was being forced to experience such pleasure and that’s what really got to me. After I figured that out during my chemistry class I became determined to figure out the dream. I actually researched it and found that repetitive dreams often had to do with stress. I may be uncomfortable with myself and other people, but I didn’t think I was too stressed at the time so I went back to wondering what to do. Things continued as normal and I only had the dream every once in a while. I had the dream barely at all. It was towards the end of September that I started having the dream every few days. I thought about going to the counseling center to talk to someone about it but I didn’t want to waste a professional’s time on something as silly as a wet-dream… especially if they might think it was stupid. In the end the dream continued to develop and I continued to feel the sensations more and more, to the point that I could sense more specific details and remember them in the waking hours of school. There was a point where I knew that the shadowy bathroom wasn’t just cold; a little bit of frost was blowing in from the open window. My dream was taking place in the upcoming months, and even though at first I didn’t realize it was warning me. It was coming for me. I was starting to lose more and more sleep. I don’t consider myself very strong but I’ve always done will in class so I avoided worrying about grades as the bags under my eyes got worse. My roommate started worrying, but I passed midterms fine and I think he must’ve talked to the dorm’s staff to check on me. They eventually had someone come to see if I needed help. I told them I wasn’t on drugs and that ultimately, I was fine. The nightmare kept developing, though. My mind can’t help but remember it vividly. I would be in that bathroom stall, my head filling with some sort of energy… like water filling a pitcher I just felt myself becoming more and more full of it. That was when things started changing… I would feel the sensation of being full of this strange energy and it seemed to need expansion. And that was another thing I just didn’t understand. Slowly, I’d feel my feet start to ache. My bones feel like they’re irritated and sore and I start feeling unable to breathe but instead, I just swallow more air. I in fact feel my blood pumping… rushing through me as my heart palpitates like an furnace full of too much kindling. Shit, that’s exactly what it feels like- I start sweating from how hot and fast my heart is going. It feels like it’s only getting bigger, too. Like all of me is getting bigger… The sensation of my feet being aching spreads through me, and I stagger forward on my seat. I grunt and almost moan, as if I know what’s going to happen and as if I truly want it… I open my eyes to see my veins are thick and pulsing through my skin. Am I dying? Why does it continue? But I don’t ask these damn questions in my dream. I just welcome it. I feel my whole body tense up, like a giant cramp and I growl as my skin turns red with this strange… pump. I’d been avoiding the bathroom on my floor for a while now, even when in daylight. I would have continued if the men’s bathroom downstairs wouldn’t have flooded a few weeks ago. I asked so many questions about the repairs and all I got was that they’d have to fix it the upcoming semester. The groans of the guys on floor 1 pissed me off only because their problems weren’t as big as mine. Fuck, I hate that word. ‘Big’. I’m avoiding it, too. It’s a word that keeps creeping up on me. Not like a snake or a ghost, mind you. It’s definitely a hulking creature stalking me like its prey. I finally knew something was really wrong when I listened in on some of the bros as they got back from the gym. “Yeah, I feel really great after today. Look at this pump!” the first one said, wearing a tank he had cut out himself from a t-shirt he got at the beginning of the semester. “Damn, your arms look bigger already. No homo, hahah.” the other one commented in a chuckle. I thought it was all homo. “Well they say that when you get a real, honest-to-god pump you’re actually looking into the future. You know, because your muscles are so full of blood or whatever.” Said the first. “That shit’s kind of gross.” Laughed the second. As if I needed this information (I suppose I did, but hopefully from a better source that would disprove my insanity), I recognized the feeling. It was the feeling of getting a ‘pump’. The only difference, however, was that in my dream it was continuing and I didn’t know what exactly would happen at the end of the ordeal. I was determined to find out. I started researching dreams and finally contacted a private counselor via phone. It’s a nice service, I guess, and I could talk to her anonymously. She asked me how I felt about masculinity and other weird questions like my sexual orientation. I answered honestly when I told her I never really cared about being ‘masculine’ or muscular- I figured that’s what she was getting at. I just cared about my schooling and I didn’t really care to date anyone, man or woman. She eventually told me that maybe I had some kind of repressed sexual feelings, and that I could try exploring it a bit in a calm fashion. I start squeezing my hands, feeling my fingers tighten as this pump fills me. I relish it, my head rolling forward as my back becomes heavier than I can handle. The pulsing sensation doesn’t diminish. It only makes me change. It feels so fucking good changing. I grunt and even moan when I feel my legs finally getting thicker. In the daylight I’m thin and my legs look like pale sticks of flesh. I don’t know why I love the sensation of them growing. I see shapes I’ve never really noticed on a body (mine, or others) as my legs get thicker… and thicker… and stronger… And the sensation only moves upward. I just… it just keeps going. I feel my stomach tightening up and loosening, but only a little less than the wave that preceded it. I grunt as I feel my abdomen define itself, little bricks popping up through my burning-hot skin. I’m dripping in sweat as if I had any fat to lose to begin with and it hurts. Somehow I want it, I want the pain of this… growth? I just enjoy it so much as I feel my wrists shake and my hands clench up too tight. That’s when my pectorals start ballooning out. I usually buy shirts a size too big and I find myself quickly filling it in during this dream… Nightmare. It’s a nightmare. I can’t let it be a good dream. I won’t. I lost track when I hallucinated. I was walking down the normal street all students do here, and all while classes were ending. People go in all directions (we actually have a large record here on our campus for having the most busy pedestrian light in the state or whatever) and there’s no way you can get through on a bike. It was rather cold now, and I had already began dreading the first snow. I just remember walking through the crowds and hearing someone call my name. It sounded rather distant and I pretended not to hear just so I could get home faster. I’d just blame the distance to whoever would text me after the event. Heading home, however, is a bit of a walk for those who live in Helena. It’s on the farthest corner of campus and nowhere near the rest of the halls. At night it’s completely isolated. The crowds disappeared at some point and I recognized someone was close by on the same path. I just kept going and payed no mind, but it wasn’t until I got to a main road that I turned to see things had already gone awry minutes ago. There they stood- a hulking figure who had called out my name earlier. I recognized that they were staying about a block behind and they had been following me since I left class. I swallowed my breath and tried not to make eye-contact as I sped up my pace through traffic. They didn’t seem afraid, either. They were just eyeing me up, like a meal. I never took the time to see the features of this man in a black hood and hoped he wasn’t a hired thug. I almost ran into my building when I saw that he’d already disappeared. I jacked off after the nightmare a few days ago. Kyle was out at his girl’s and even though my anxiety was killing me, I stayed here. Nowhere to go during the weekdays. I got to the point where I start growing… and fast. I woke up with a hard-on and my balls ached so badly. It felt like I’d not jacked off in weeks, seems like. God, I was so embarrassed. I still am. But, just. Growing. It feels so good in my nightmare. I don’t know what to do when my cock is just throbbing inside my shorts and I need a moment of calm… Fuck. I just keep getting thicker. I finally understand why I groan in pain from the bone-aches. I think I hear a few bones pop, as if breaking and disjointing a bit. Maybe they’re just reframing so I can be taller. I can tell my feet are bigger simply by the cold surface of the tiled floor, meaning I’ve grown taller too. I’m already pretty tall, so god only knows how much taller I’m getting in this damn dream. I know that whoever leaves that bathroom isn’t me. That’s what frightens me the most. He’s bigger. Cooler. Much stronger than me. But he isn’t me. What if he’s an asshole? Fuck. He’s really big, though. I’ve never cared about these things before. Why is this happening to me, of all people? What did I do to have this become my eldritch horror? I don’t want to disappear! And yet, feeling my hands get thicker, calloused from deadlifting so damn much turns me on so bad now. Feeling my sweat drip off of my nose as I get water after a workout- something about it excites me. I’ve never cared about sports or eating extremely healthy. And fuck, somehow still it’s coming for me. What if I stop studying art? I got a letter with information on the business program here- of all fucking degrees, can you imagine?! This is his doing, I can tell! I’m going insane and it’s all HIS fault because he wants me to be bigger and muscular and I don’t know why! It doesn’t matter. I haven’t gone to classes all week. I’m doing well enough that this won’t do anything for me, except get the board on my ass for skipping so much. I’ve told my teachers I’ll send the work in, I just can’t make it. I haven’t slept. It’s so cold. Everyone plans on going somewhere for the weekend and I’m stuck alone in this fucking place and- And the dream finished, in full. Last night. I woke up and walked to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet and pissed, then pulled up my pants. I looked up and closed my eyes as the weirdness filled me. Then I began to grow. Damn, every time it feels even more real. I feel my arms getting… thicker. Biceps that look like baseballs, and proceed to swell even bigger. Fuck- forearms that look like tree-branches from all the striations as I spread my legs. My cock actually grows, filling my tight underwear as I moan. I can feel my balls actually churning cum because I’m just that virile now… and damn, these basketball shorts just fill up with mass as I get thicker. I can’t think straight anymore, my quads just flex as I cross my clenched hands. Feeling my back pop and spread to the sides excites me so bad! I just gasp when I hear the first sounds of my shirt tearing down the middle! I don’t hesitate, either. I just reach down to tug my shorts off- tearing them like paper, as I look down at my huge cock. It bobs up and down, looking like I pumped it full of air and left a cock-ring on it for days. I feel myself up, my fingers going through every ridge of muscle. Every little bump that forms around my abdomens makes me feel even wider. My waist must be tiny because I can’t really feel it at the side of my arms. My cock dribbles so much just tugging on my stretched out nips, too… I just keep slamming down onto my huge cock, dripping pre onto the floor and moaning like some kind of beast in the wild. I roar, claiming my new body as I flex my left arm up. The pleasure alone makes me feel more powerful than anything in the world could. I haven’t’ slept. I don’t know if anyone will notice me disappearing, either. I keep having issues getting on social media, contacting people. I’m so isolated. I could’ve sworn I saw HIM walking the halls. He wants to take over my life. He wants me to be bigger. Be a different man. Keeps dangling it in front of me… Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll transfer into a cool business program. The guys there might not even be assholes. And we can fuck, too. No, wait. That’s not…. What I want. I need to sleep a little in the day and then not worry so much about night-time… It doesn’t matter anymore. I was finally able to log in to my social media. I don’t exist anymore. All my profiles. All my pictures online. Even the ones just on my phone- they’re all of somebody else. Yeah, they look like me. He looks a lot like me. His jaw is just squarer… He’s almost as tall as a basketball player… I’ve grown thick hair all around my neck and keep it long on my head so it makes me look rugged… And I wear tight clothing so my pecs almost pop off my buttons… I look… really good. It’s time to down a glass of water, maybe, and wait for me to head to the bathroom. I think I see him… me… out in the courtyard waiting for me to give in. My window is open so I don’t fall asleep, but I think it’s time I closed it. It’s starting to snow. The sensations I feel when I burst out of my clothes and walk over to the mirror are unmatched. I kind of want to see him staring back at me. We can flex together. I can flex hard. Who knows, maybe this is a really good dream have, after all.
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