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  1. NayarLeng

    The Ascension of the Dragon

    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
  2. czechhunter69

    Mike the Gigantic Beast

    This writing is a new style for me as it's my first time writing in first person. If you're curious about where the name comes from, it's inspired by him (Gigantic Beast). Unfortunately, his content is no longer available on YouTube (but is loads of other places) and I don't believe he's creating any more growth audios. However, I hope this piece captures his attention. Please enjoy, and if you would like to commission me for a writing project, I would be happy to discuss it with you. ------------------------ Finally, I have the house all to myself! The feeling is absolutely amazing. It's been years since I've had the chance to be alone like this. The last time I had the house to myself, I can't even remember when that was. But today, I have the day off and I was really looking forward to a relaxing day of doing absolutely nothing. Unfortunately, my husband had other plans for me. As he was leaving for work this morning, he handed me a list of chores that needed to be done before I could indulge in any pleasure. I know it's a kink, but I have to respect it. I have to all of it before he got home. If I couldn’t get it done, I would enjoy a cat of nine tails, and if I did, I got to chose what I wanted. Really, it was him and his beefy body. He loved flexing for me, drying out every couple weeks before fucking my brains out. At first, I was a bit annoyed. I mean, it's my day off, shouldn't I be able to do what I want? But then, as I started to work through the list, I found a strange sense of satisfaction in crossing off each task, knowing he was at work restraining himself as I texted him increasingly naughty photos. It was almost like I was earning my reward or my punishment. I scrubbed the bathroom tiles until they shone, washed the dishes until they sparkled, and dusted every surface in the house. By the time I finished, I was exhausted but also strangely proud of myself. I had earned my right to indulge in some self-care, and I couldn't wait to get started. The only obstacle in my way was the attic. The last chore, to simply clean it up. I wasn't quite sure why my husband wanted me to go up there. He usually keeps his science stuff up there, and I try to let him have his own space to tinker around in. But every time he comes back down from the attic, he's ripped and hornier than a toad. Those were the best nights, he was commanding and aggressive, and I felt safe in his beefy arms. It's like something up there just sets him off. I couldn't help but wonder what was up there that could have that effect on him. With a deep breath, I climbed up the stairs and opened the door to the attic. It was musty and dark, with boxes and old furniture piled up all around. I had to navigate my way through the mess, one item at a time. Disorganized boxes were strewn about haphazardly, and the dust was thicker than snow. It was clear that this task was not going to be completed in just a couple of hours, it would probably take a couple of days, even with my husband's help. I couldn't believe he had given me this chore, it had to be some kind of joke. He usually made his missions fair for us both. As I was surveying the mess, trying to figure out where to start, something caught my eye. In the corner of the attic, there was a strange machine churning out a chunky, gelatinous fluid into a basin next to some cups. One cup in particular, was one I had bought him last Christmas. The machine was unlike anything I had ever seen before. 1 label read: GB-Remake Version XLG My curiosity had gotten the best of me, and I cautiously walked over to the machine, hearing the old floorboards creak and groan beneath my feet. As I approached, I wafted the smell to my nose. It didn't smell like anything in particular, but it was clear that my husband had been drinking this stuff. Despite my initial hesitation, I decided to give it a shot, trying my best to avoid the floating chunks. Surprisingly, the taste wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. After a few minutes, the aftertaste made it a little more palatable, though it was still strange. I downed a couple more glasses' worth as I laughed to myself about the absurdity of the situation. A machine making drinks in the attic, what could be more absurd? There was no way this task was actually about cleaning; it was all about my husband showing me his latest creation. He had a knack for making me find his achievements rather than show me like he would when he makes his pecs dance. But, I had to admit, it was good. Or at least good enough for me to lie and say it was delicious. As I continued to drink the gelatinous concoction, I felt a rush of energy course through my body. Now it was my turn to show off, I thought, as I raced down the stairs and loaded up some muscle-bear porn. With my skinny hairless body, it was a major turn on to see men like my bear, getting absolutely plowed. With a sense of excitement, I whipped out my dick and began to enjoy the scene, feeling grateful for the day off and the chance to indulge in some much-needed self-care. I earned this. I earned every second of this, I reminded myself as I let out a low moan. It was the perfect end to a perfect day, and I was determined to savor every last moment. As I neared the point of no return, I snapped a quick picture of my erect cock and sent it to my husband, thanking him for the drink and stroking his ego as I stroked myself. "I can't wait to taste yours tonight," I texted with a devilish grin. I knew Julius would be thrilled, and it was just another way to express my gratitude for his unique kinks. In response, he messaged me back that he was on his way up and that his little bitch, me, better not finish without him, or he would be angry. The pressure was mounting, and I was half-tempted to give in to the sensation and cream myself. Getting off the couch, I was grateful that my pants were mostly off. My rock-hard 4-inch cock was pulsating, but there wasn't even a drop of pre-cum to celebrate with. I decided, I needed a cold shower to calm down, so I began my walk of shame to the bathroom. It wasn't shameful, but it was a shame I hadn’t cum yet, but it was almost painful. By the time I made it to the door, was back to my floppy 1” self. As I stood there, my heart racing and my body feeling electric, I couldn't help but wonder what was going on with me. Maybe it was just the excitement of seeing Julius again after a long day, or maybe it was something else entirely. But as I stretched and felt my hands, I couldn't deny the feeling that they were slightly larger than before. I pushed the thought out of my mind, focusing instead on Julius and his amazing physique, something to get me excited. I felt myself stay chubbed up at the thought of him flexing his smooth pecs, pushing my head down his body, sucking his tits, licking his firm stomach, humming on his dick like it a harmonica. But before I could even make it to the shower, I heard the sound of Julius's keys in the front door lock. My heart skipped a beat as I ran to the door, throwing it open and pulling him into a passionate embrace. It was like a rush of energy had taken over my body, and I couldn't get enough of him. And to my surprise, he seemed just as into it as I was. I don’t know where the energy came from, but ran to the door excited to greet him, throwing him against the wall, passionately starting challenging him. I don’t know what it was, but I liked it. He liked it. I could feel his boner pressed against his pants. “Mike… what’s gotten into you…” Julius said. He was right, it wasn’t like me to take control, pressing him against the wall, and making out with him. In all actuality, I wanted to rip his shirt down the center, if I was strong enough - something I knew I couldn’t do. “I don’t know…. But I want….uhhh” I growled, my voice getting a light deeper, as I moved my hand behind his head pushing him closer. He pushed me away. “Mike, are you taller?” I was almost too focused on finally getting what I wanted. And I wanted him. “Baby… let’s just have some fun.” I said stepping closer and sending my hand up his shirt, grabbing his pec, teasing a nipple and leaning in for another kiss. I don't know where the sudden burst of energy came from, but I ran to the door, my heart pounding with anticipation. As soon as Julius stepped in, I couldn't resist throwing him against the wall, challenging him with a passionate kiss. It felt so intense, so raw, so unlike me. But damn, it felt good. And judging by the way he was responding, he was into it too. I could feel his hard-on pressed against his pants, which only fueled my desire further. I wanted him, and I wanted him now. But before I could take it any further, Julius pulled away. "Mike...what's gotten into you?" he asked, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and concern. "I don't know," I growled, my voice deeper than usual. "But I want...uhh..." My words trailed off as I moved my hand behind his head, pulling him closer. He pushed me away. "Mike, are you taller?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprise. I was almost too focused on the primal urges that were coursing through me to even register his question. "Baby, let's just have some fun," I said, stepping closer and sliding my hand up his shirt, teasing his nipple. I leaned against him pressing my cock against his waist. My body still buzzing with energy and desire. He pushed me away again, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Did you drink that juice upstairs?” he asked, his tone laced with concern. It was as if he was finally piecing it all together. I couldn't contain my devilish smile as I nodded, reveling in the thrill of it all. “It tasted great.” “How much did you have?” he pressed, his expression now a mixture of worry and anger. “A couple glasses,” I replied, my voice laced with a hint of lust. I couldn't wait to experience the full effects of the mysterious juice. “Now, let me have some sugar honey,” I begged, dropping to my knees and eagerly ripping open his pants. “It was...uhhh…” I trailed off, consumed by desire. But Julius wasn't having any of it. He pushed me away, his grip firm on my shoulders. “No, Mike. You're about to get fucking huge. When you see me ripped, that's from a couple of drops,” he warned, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. I didn't need to think twice - I knew that those were the nights I got the best dick. “Look at you,” he said, his eyes tracing the contours of my body. I paused, taking in my own reflection. Every bit of sinew down my arms was more pronounced, my body growing bigger by the second. I laughed, my voice now deeper than before. “I feel great,” I said, almost giddy with excitement. “It's like my whole body is...uhhh... feels like my whole body is having an orgasm, and you better make me orgasm before I get too big.” I laughed. I had a lot more than a couple of drops. With each groan and growl, I felt my body expanding, stretching outwards in all directions. As I stood up, I towered over Julius by at least four inches. The feeling was incredible. I couldn't help but smile. I exclaimed, barely able to contain my excitement. Julius tried to calm me down, but I was too far gone. I wrapped my arms around him and pinned him against the wall, the rush of power surging through me. "I have to enjoy this," I gasped, my breaths coming in ragged pants. I felt my biceps swelling, my chest expanding. I couldn't resist the urge to kiss him again, my hands exploring his body as mine continued to grow. My cock was throbbing in my pants, and no amount of cold showers could have fixed it, not when I was going to cum, and probably cum a couple more times. I couldn't wait to show Julius just how much stronger I was getting. Laughing, I lifted him off his feet and carried him to the bedroom. I was growing stronger by the second, the muscles in my arms and legs pulsing with newfound energy. "My god, look at me," I said, admiring myself with him lifted up in front of me in the mirror. It was a struggle, but one that was quickly getting easier to bear. My shirt was tight across my chest, and my armpits were sweaty and musky. I could hardly stand the scent, but the pleasure was too great to ignore. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long, Julius,” I said, my voice now deeper and commanding. “And you’re not going to stop me now. You’re going to worship me, massage every crack and crevasse. Uhhnnn, and you’re not going to stop.” The color drained from his face. I flexed my biceps, feeling the power coursing through my veins. With each step, the floorboards creaked under my added weight. Julius looked up at me, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and arousal. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Mike,” he pleaded, but I wasn't listening. I was too focused on the sensation of my growing muscles, the power surging through me. I grabbed Julius by the shirt and pulled him close, feeling the fabric strain under my growing muscles. “You're going to help me grow, Julius,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You're going to worship my muscles and help me become the ultimate muscle daddy.” Julius hesitated for a moment, but I could see the lust in his eyes. He reached out a hand and touched my bicep, feeling the hard muscle beneath my skin. I let out a low growl as he licked my bicep, his tongue tracing over the bulging muscle. His looking up to me, as if to say. “Is this what you wanted?” My muscles continued to grow as he worshipped me, my body expanding in size and strength. I could feel the power coursing through me, the sensation of growing more and more intense with each passing moment. As Julius licked my biceps, my body felt like it was on fire. As the hem began to rip open. “There you go, nice and…. Uhh bigger for you.” I grunted. Every lick sent a jolt of pleasure through me, causing my muscles to twitch and expand even more. “My arms alone have to be 15” and growing.” I could feel my pants straining against my growing quads and glutes, threatening to rip at any moment. But I didn't care. All I cared about was the rush of power I was feeling as I grew bigger and stronger with each passing moment. “Looks like you’re finally getting chest hair” Julius teased, trying to hide his concern, staring at the deep gaping v-hole in my shirt as the hair began to spread. The shirt slowly stretching out further and further, before the back of the shirt simply ripped open. “God this feels so good,” I said enjoying him climbing on me. “Every inch of me is getting so thick and strong.” As my chest expanded, I could feel hairs on my chest starting to grow - I wasn’t just growing stronger, I was becoming more of a man. No more being this hairless short weakling. It was like my whole body was transforming into a massive, muscle-bound beast. And I loved every second of it. “Uhhh …. God damn this feels fucking great.” I put him on the bed, grabbing the hems of his pants and ripping them open. His cock standing at attention. "Daddy's hungry," I said, my eyes roaming over his sculpted chest, the ripples of muscles drawing my gaze downwards. His tight physique was a sight to behold, and my body tingled with anticipation as I ran my hands over his hardly visible abs. Julius looked up at me with a mixture of fear and arousal in his eyes. He knew that he had unleashed something powerful and unstoppable in me, something that he couldn't control. But I didn't care about that either. All I cared about was pushing my body to its limits, growing bigger and stronger with each passing moment. And as I looked down at Julius, I knew that he was going to help me get there, whether he wanted to or not. I looked down on him, before going to town on his cock. It felt smaller in my mouth, strangely. I knew I was growing, but this, this was amazing. It only took a minute or two before his moaning, groaning, and eventually climaxing. The secret was humming while rolling the tongue around the head and sucking. “Holy fuck… that was… that was intense.” He said out of breath. “Yeah, now it’s time you start…. Uhhhh… doing the same before I get too…. Big.” I growled, now nearly 8” taller than him as my body continued to grow. And as Julius continued to worship my muscles, I knew that I was just getting started. I didn’t want to give him any other option though, I could tell he was scared, but even more scared to stop. My shirt began to untuck as the cuffs of my pants began to tighten around my calves, my feet filling the shoes. Looking down, I was getting huge. It looked like I had spent 5 years in a gym, bathing in Tren and Dbol.
  3. So this is a story I decided to write on a whim as an excuse to procrastinate from coursework I'm supposed to be doing that is very very loosely connected in some way to this, which is how I justified to myself wasting a couple of hours on it. In any case, I hope you enjoy it and I hope I don't offend any Potterheads on the forum (seriously, please don't execute me, I just thought the magical premise lent itself well for muscle growth stories) and instead I hope you appreciate the nods and references here and there. As always, feedback is always welcomed. HARRY POTTER & THE DRAUGHT OF VIGOUR Harry: Longbottom! Neville: Hello Harry *He says in an unamused yet friendly tone* Harry: ah it’s good to see you mate *Harry replies while patting Neville’s back* Harry: well come on, come in, it’s chilly outside isn’t it? It’s been 2 years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and former Hogwarts colleagues Harry and Neville had gone on to start the following chapter in their adult lives. They had remained friends after Hogwarts and Harry had invited Neville over for a Saturday night of eating terrible food and indulging in the stories of their lives. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Harry: hahahahaha. Neville: you don’t have to be such knob. Harry: *laughter trailing off* well you are correct that it wasn’t the nicest gesture, however, I honestly wasn’t aware that it took till the following morning for someone to find you on the common room floor. Neville: well it’s not as if I could undo Hermione’s curse on my own. Harry: at the very least that act of bravery is what won Gryffindor the House Cup during our first year, so cheers to you sir. *raises his wine glass* Neville: it does feel quite nice being acknowledged by the ‘chosen one’. *he says in a sarcastic tone* Harry: sod off. Neville: what a time to be alive though, despite the second wizarding war. Harry: a lot of things have changed, a lot of people have changed, I was taken aback when I came across Luna again the other day, she’s still quintessentially Luna though. Oh! *Harry half-jogs to another room* Neville: what are you doing? *hears rummaging* Harry: digging this out *Harry appears back in the room with a shoebox* Neville: what do you have in there? Harry: all kinds of stuff from back in Hogwarts *Harry says while sticking his arm further and further into the shoebox* Neville: where is your hand going? *Neville said, perplexed* Harry: oh this? I asked Hermione to put an extension charm on this box to store a lot of my old things. Incredibly handy, but why can’t I find those photographs? I have a couple of albums from our time at Hogwarts. Neville: maybe you have too much stuff in there, let’s take some of them out. Harry: Alright, here *Harry said as he started passing items off to Neville* After a number of things had been pulled out. Neville: okay let’s take a break, now. You really ought to clean that thing once in a while, this all can’t be absolutely necessary anymore. Harry: they are memories, some great, others torturous, but memories nonetheless. Neville: really, this is a memory worth keeping? *He says while holding up a 6th-year Herbology textbook* Did you ever even use this? Harry: I don’t believe so, it was around the time everything started falling apart. Neville: why is it so tattered already then? Harry: I’m not sure... *Harry says while taking the book from Neville and turning open the cover* ‘This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince’ *Harry read out* Neville: The Half-Blood Prince? Harry: it was Snape’s pseudonym, I used his copy of Advanced Potion-Making during my 6th year as well and it had all sorts of changes to potions and spells he developed on his own in them that improved upon the ones in the book. Neville: You arse, so that’s how you did so incredibly well in that class. You could have passed the knowledge along. Harry: well not every spell in there was for good. I am very curious to see what he came up with in Herbology however *Harry said as he started to skim through the pages of the book as Neville leaned in as well to see* Neville: wow there are so many notes written in the margins. Harry: it was the same with his Advanced Potion-Making textbook, the man was a bloody genius. Neville: ‘draught of vigour, enhances exponentially the physical strength of the person who consumes it, a single sip causes.....e..t.......opp......i....ex....t....e’ *Neville read on a page they came across while going through the book* I can’t read this part, it’s smudged. ‘...sulting in magnified male physical traits’ Harry: well I believe the rest is rather clear, I think that bit simply went into more detail as to how it happens. Neville: magnified physical traits and enhanced strength, rubbish, it sounds too good to be true. Harry: this is one of Snape’s potions though, THE Severus Snape, it must be real. Neville: how come Snape never fit the description of someone who drank this potion then? Harry: it was Snape, do you really see him walking around resembling Hercules considering his personality? Neville: you’re not wrong. Harry: it’s most likely also temporary. Neville: what makes you think that? Harry: the ingredients, I know some of them are used in brewing Polyjuice potion, and that only lasts a couple of hours. It might be a variation on a transformation potion? Neville: isn’t Polyjuice brewing restricted? Harry: I have plenty of stories to tell *Harry says with a smug look* Neville: well that’s apparent. Harry: should we try it? Neville: are you sure about this? Trust a potions recipe a random student came up with? Harry: it’s a potion Snape came up with, the potions master Severus Snape. Neville: are you sure this Half-Blood Prince character was Snape? Harry: how do you think I won that bottle of Liquid Luck back in the day? Neville: blimey Harry, that’s how you bested the mighty Hermione? Harry: I’m telling you, his notes would make Slughorn green with envy. Neville: so... enhanced strength you say.... Harry just smirked in response. Neville, luckily for Harry, excelled at Herbology, and had the ingredients at his disposal, he loved to collect samples of even the rarest plants and fungi he could get his hands on, so they locked up and made way for Neville’s apartment for a night neither is sure to forget. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Neville: leave your coat wherever you like, could you start a fire and prepare my cauldron for me? Harry: certainly *he said as he lit a fire and reached for the cauldron* Wow, an Induro 1816, this is a high-quality cast bronze cauldron, with lion head handles and custom engraving. Neville: keen eye. I inherited it from my great- great- grandparents. Catch Harry. Harry: got it *Harry said, catch the jar Neville had tossed him* Got everything we need? Neville: yes, are you sure we should do his? Harry: just imagine the possibilities. Neville: very well. And so Neville undertook to brew the potion while Harry read him the instructions and recipe: Add 4 leeches to a bubbling cauldron..... ........... ....... stir counter-clockwise exactly 55,5 times without............ Shred the...... Then pour in spoonfuls of ground tuberose until the potion turns a pale.... ..................... ....occasionally.......... ......... Add 3 drops of Mandrake sap and wave your wand to....... ........... while adding.... ...... Let boil for an hour and proceed to add a bundle of knotgrass..... .................thus allowing the mixture to............... Add a Devil’s Snare vine with...... .................... Finally, stir 6 times clockwise and twice counter-clockwise while simultaneously waving your wand until the mixture ceases to bubble and add 10 leaves from a Whomping Willow, one at a time. The resulting draught should be white in colour, having the consistency of troll mucus and an aroma reminiscent of damp mossy forest and tanned leather. Neville: *sighs out in relief* It’s finally done. Harry: *sniffs over the cauldron* What a very specific smell, mossy forest and tanned leather. Neville: I don’t have a problem with the smell as much as I do with the way it looks.... doesn’t it remind you of.... Harry: I thought best not to mention it *Harry quickly interjected* But I’m glad to hear I wasn’t the only one with it in mind. Neville: are we sure we want to try this? *Neville said with a dubious look on his face as Harry poured them both a cup of the potion they had just brewed* Harry: cheers! *Harry clanks his cup against Neville’s as they both down the concoction* Neville: wow *he coughs a bit* Harry: that’s bloody awful, it’s like a stale minge Neville started to feel the effects of the potion first, he felt a dizzy spell coming on, he struggled to breathe and felt really agitated and disoriented. At the same time Harry was starting to feel tingling all over and broke out in a cold sweat, his heart was racing, he felt as if a bout of nausea was about to overcome him. Feeling ill distracted them from noticing some of the other effects of the potion that were becoming more noticeable; their veins were engorging, becoming fatter and more prominent on their skin as main veins spread into countless branches all over their bodies. Then their hearts started to pound, harder and harder, reverberating in their heads, their veins pulsing in unison with the heart beats. Harry: fuck, fuck, FUUuUCK *Harry screamed as the growth kicked in* With each pulse through his veins, his muscles started to swell. First only a bit at a time, slowly filling his sweater, causing it to fit his body in a much more complimenting way. Then suddenly his left arm jerked into the air and starting from his deltoid down to his biceps and triceps, then finally his forearms his muscles swelled, growing twice their size in an instant, tearing the sweater sleeve apart. As the feeling rocked Harry down to his core and drool ran from his mouth in absent-minded ecstasy, the growth started to spread to his right side, his left pec, trap, neck and lat swelling bigger, and bigger with each breath until another violent jerk made them and his entire right size explode in size in a wave that raced towards his fingertips, catching up to his left arm, destroying the remaining sleeve and neck of the sweater, the leftovers falling down to the floor revealing his (currently) disproportioned body. At the same time, Neville was undergoing the same transformation, he grabbed his head with both his hands as his body pulsed and grew until his shirt and trousers were taught. Then as the growth rocked through his lower body, first through his right glute, then his quad, and finally his calf, ripping his pant leg to pieces and forcing him to lean onto his underdeveloped left leg until the growth targeted that one as well, the sudden growth on that side now causing him to lurch and collapse on to his knees, when his already muscular legs doubled in size once again, forcing him to use his hands on the floor to steady himself while his trousers left this world behind, and revealing a pair of boxers that were desperately trying to contain something very large that was growing thicker and stiffer. Harry’s growth meanwhile had started to make haste travelling downwards, his abs and obliques bulging one by one, and a deep Apollo’s belt forming on top of his hips giving him a thick and meaty core, this was followed by his glutes bulging outwards, blowing the middle seam of his jeans right open. Neville in the meantime was screaming to high heaven as the growth spread through him much more violently, rushing upwards making his entire upper body bulge in size, then again, then again, then one more time tripling in size in a wave of growth that knocked the air right out of his lungs, his upper body becoming ridiculously wide while maintaining a relatively trim waist, that spread into his massive legs when your gaze travelled further downwards. At the same time, his cock, fully erect and poking out the top of his boxer’s waistband and his oversized balls which stretched the rest of the fabric to its max, were growing with each wave of growth that rocked him as well, his cock grew purple and the veins became grotesquely engorged, and then one wave and the cock stretch longer and swelled thicker, and his balls swelled larger causing tears to come from his boxers, then again even larger, then once again, when Neville’s underwear finally gave out and he moaned in ecstasy, his cock lodging itself between his enormous pecs, eliciting an obscene moan from him as it swelled one last time becoming menacingly thick and squirting out a large glob of precum. At the sight of his ridiculously muscled and well-endowed friend arousal overcame Harry like a feral animal’s instincts, the tear in his jeans’ rear spreading towards the front of the pair of pants as his growth sped up, his cock tearing right through everything bursting forwards in all of its glory, freakishly large and as thick around as a bodybuilder’s arm, although even then not as thick as Neville’s. It smacked hard against his abdomen with a loud and wet *THWACK*, drooling precum like a river. The growth continuing down his legs, destroying what little denim had remained desperately hanging onto his frame. When it seemed as if any more stimuli would fry their young brains, the effects of the potion finally started to subside. The profuse sweating stopped, and they slowly started to regain their bearings. Neville: Christ *Neville said as he began to stand up* Harry: bugger, that was a wild ride. Neville: you can say that again.... holy shit Harry... *Neville said as the sight of his newly enhanced friend finally registered in his brain* Harry: Looks good huh? *he said as he strikes a double bicep* Although I can’t say I dislike my view. Neville: what are you talking abou.... *Neville’s words trailed off as he took in his own physique, exploring all his new glistening muscles, flexing here and there* Wow Harry: I don’t think it’s quite fair that you got to have this thing though *Harry says, lust and envy tinging his words and coming through in his eyes as he grabs Neville’s bigger cock* Neville: FUCK! Harry what the... SHIIiiiiIT *Neville tries to get out as Harry swallows his cockhead in one fell swoop, Neville instinctively pushing Harry’s head down further, forcing his monster cock down his friend’s throat with his newfound strength* yes yes yes, fuck YEAH! Harry: *cough cough cough* down boy, that thing can kill now, although I know of another hole that’s up to the challenge *Harry says as he bends down, laying his chest on the table nearby, presenting his rear to Neville* Neville without saying another word walks over and ploughs his cock into Harry’s ass down to the hilt prompting a guttural roar from Harry that quickly transitioned into a lascivious moan as Neville pulled out halfway and plough back in again this time with a tad more care into his actions. In and out, again and again and again, he rammed his massive cock into Harry. Flipping Harry halfway on to his back, Neville pulled out all the way then rapidly ploughed halfway into Harry making him grunt, he pulled out again, then rammed it in again halfway, repeating this a few more times before getting back to fucking Harry like he wanted to kill him. As he came closer and closer to his climax Neville picked up the pace and the strength with which he rammed Harry, he fucked faster and harder, and harder and harder and even harder, pushing Harry to the edge himself until they both yelled out in unison when Neville rammed him one last time, him coming into Harry and Harry shooting his load into the air where it then came down pouring like torrential rain unto them and the table. As they came down from their stupor they started to slowly shrink back. Neville: oh man, it’s not permanent? No! I wanted to stay like this. Harry: haha well then it really would be too good to be true if it were permanent. Besides, there is only so much of your animal fucking that I can take before I die. Neville: that’s not really my problem now is it *Neville said trying to be smug, his façade slipping just a bit as his cheeks blush pink* Harry: look at him, all that hot air filling your muscles went to your head? After about half an hour of slowly shrinking down, they stopped shrinking at a good 8kg (18lbs) heavier than they were prior to drinking from the draught. Harry: hmm I guess there is some carryover from the potion after all, or it just takes longer for the last bits to leave our systems. Neville: well I did enjoy being the hulking beast, but I suppose I can live with this much *he says while flexing his arm and admiring his new above-average bicep* Harry: well.... as you are aware, we did brew a whole lot of the draught of vigour, there is always more experimentation to be had, we should figure out if this amount of extra size will be left over after every use don’t you think? *Harry says in a sensible tone* Neville: as true men of the magical sciences we should be methodical shouldn’t we now? *replies Neville in the same tone* Harry: you always were a very reasonable man *says Harry as a smirk appears on his lips* -- The End --
  4. Absman420

    CYCLE ONE: UNIT THREE

    “Hey everybody, this is Glenn!” “And this is Ben!” “We’re the Fortunato Brothers! And you’re watching another episode of ‘Can You Believe They Bought That Shit?’” TITLE -- THEME MUSIC “In this episode, we’re nosing in on the Storage Auction scene!” “Yeah, my brother and I took some of the profits we’ve made from our podcast this season and -- as usual -- WE BOUGHT SOME SHIT!” “What’d we get this time, Ben?” “That’s a good question, Glenn! The truth is -- I don’t know! Like everybody in the Storage Auction biz, we bought blind!” (EXTERIOR SHOT: Drone -- camera pans across the abandoned “ETERNAL STORAGE” building. There are faded egyptian pyramids painted on the storefront, symbolizing eternity -- subtly informing the viewer that they’ll own their junk forever. We can see the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot and the dilapidated condition of the building. Clearly, from the view, we’re in the middle of nowhere.) BEN (in VO): The Eternal Storage facility went out of business about a decade ago, but they never emptied it. Scheduled for demolition, “Eternal” decided to auction off the unclaimed lots, which these sorts of companies do regularly -- it’s even easier now, thanks to COVID. We bought our booty online. (INTERIOR SHOT: Hallway. Rows of storage units, resembling garage doors, run the dusty, broken down hallway. Some are open and empty, several are locked shut. The electric hall lights work by luck alone, creating a dim, prison-like atmosphere. The Buy-It Brothers are “Live” again. Glenn steps into frame.) “But you know us,” Glenn says, smiling his jowly, toothy grin at the camera. “We don’t ever buy a little shit when a lot of shit’s available!” Ben pops in frame, interrupting. “So we bought THREE of these things!” “Well, the fact is we bought an entire lot, which includes these three units, right here next to each other!” “Who knows what wonders we’ll find?” “No one till we open it. So, what do you say? Which one you wanna start with?” “Let’s start with Door Number One!” Ben says, pulling out a tagged key. As he unlocks an ancient, massive padlock that secures a chain to keep the metal “garage door” in place, his brother hogs the camera. “The fun of this style of ‘Blind Buying’ has spawned quite a few tv shows. Who knows what will be inside? Will it have value, or is it just old furniture and clothes? Is it King Tut’s tomb or Al Capone’s vault? If my brother can ever get the lock off, we’ll find out!” Smiling, Ben says, “This shit’s old!” “So’s your Momma!” Ben snorts, turning the key with great effort. “She’s your Momma, too,” he says, as the lock snaps open with a lethargic clack. “And you know she watches this show.” Ben pulls the chain out of the grating and the two of them squat down to open the sliding door. They couldn’t be less like each other, physically -- Glenn is built like a Snowman and Ben like a String Bean -- although you can see they’re related by face. And sense of humor. The hallway echoes with the sound of scraping, stubborn metal-on-metal force, as if the doorway didn’t fit correctly into its runners, as if it had been pounded out of shape. They get it up almost two feet before it won’t budge another inch. Ben, his skinny bod already used up, sighs loudly and pants. “Okay, maybe Tut’s tomb was a little easier! Want to try one of the others first?” Glenn is kneeling down, shining his flashlight into the darkness of the storage space. “No,” he says. “I can fit under this -- it doesn’t look like it’s jammed full of stuff -- lemme find the light.” “Go, Indy!” Ben mocks as Glenn slides (barely) under the stuck door. Ben gives a side-eye to the camera and whispers, “Indiana Jones was in better shape than my brother…” He harrumphs sarcastically, indicating his lean frame. “Usually, I’m the one squeezing into tight spaces, but my brother likes being the showman when the camera’s on. What’s going on in there?” he calls. “Hold on -- looking for a light. This is crazy!” “What?” Suddenly, the interior light comes on, flooding the space and leaking through the jammed metal door. “Holy crap! Get in here, Ben -- bring the camera!” (INTERIOR SHOT: Storage Unit One, about the size of a standard one-car garage, unpainted cinder-block walls with an overhead neon light. The space is full of gym equipment, not just stored willy-nilly, but set-up as if to be functional, as if someone worked out here. There’s a cable-crossover on the far end, before the mirrored wall. A squat rack on one side, a series of benches and dumbbells on the other. Dusty and cobwebbed, it hasn’t seen use in a while -- but it once did. Lots of use from its condition.) “Look at this!” Glenn says to the camera, smiling broadly. “This is someone’s gym!” Ben looks around. “Maybe some gym went out of business or something…” “No. This looks like someone used it. I mean, this stuff is set up, not stored.” He pulls a pair of 20-pound dumbbells from the rack and struggles to do some bicep curls. “Look at me,” Glenn laughs. “I’m Ah-nold!” He puts the dumbbells back on the rack with a clang that echoes through the space. His pear-shaped body couldn’t possibly look less like Schwarzenegger. Weird. “This is weird,” says Ben. “I know,” laughs Glenn. “Can You Believe We Bought That Shit?” Even Ben laughs at this. “Another mystery for the Buy-It Brothers!” he says back, smiling. “Hey, look back here! There’s a door to the next room -- we won’t have to try and open the front slider!” “Thank God,” Ben says, pulling the heavy wad of keys, chains, and rings from the pocket of his cargo shorts and dropping them on the flat bench. Behind and to the side of the cable crossover -- almost hidden to the eye -- there’s a standard gray industrial door that leads to the next unit. The knob has a keyhole, but as Glenn grabs it, the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the side, as if someone had forced their way through it and tried to put it back in place so no one would notice. “Fine construction,” Glenn jokes. “No wonder they’ve condemned this building.” “This is all very weird.” Glenn pulls the flashlight from out of his back pocket. “At least I know where the light switches are,” he says, entering the dark room. “Be careful,” Ben calls, shooting a nervous glance at the camera. He sees the light come on in the next room, but when he doesn’t hear anything more from his brother, he steps toward the door. “Glenn…?” His brother’s voice isn’t scared, exactly, but he certainly sounds concerned. “Ben,” he says, “bring the camera.” (INTERIOR SHOT: Interior of Unit Two. Ben is clumsy, so the camera is jerky as the stand is reset. This room is identical to the other in terms of construction (and lack of color), but it has a different function -- this is living quarters. At one end of the storage unit, along the wall is a simple cot with a nightstand, a lamp, and a small dresser -- a dull, circular floor rug breaks up the cement. On the other wall, a cheap recliner aimed at a crude, old-fashioned entertainment center -- a TV, a VCR and several dozen VHS tapes. Along the back end of the unit, the opposite end, a seatless toilet, a sink, and a showerhead -- there’s a centered floor drain beneath it.) Taking it all in, Ben says, “What the fuck?” Same tone from Glenn. “Can you believe we bought this shit?” “Glenn, what’s goin’ on? Do you think… someone LIVED here?” “Or was KEPT here.” There’s an uncomfortable silence, unusual between these two. To distract himself, Glenn goes to the entertainment center and picks up some of the VHS tapes. He snorts. “What?” asks Ben, turning the camera to catch Glenn. Glenn holds up the tapes to the camera. “It’s all gay porn,” he says. “And a few bodybuilding competitions.” Even Ben sighs and jokes, “Can you believe we bought that shit?” He chuckles. “Do you think any of this has any value at all?” Glenn shrugs, indicating the tapes. “They’re vintage,” he says. “And look,” he continues, turning the TV on, “TV still works!” The TV comes to life with gay porn, two muscular men in the depths of fucking. Crude and savage, the Buy-It Brothers both turn away. “Oh, Geez… turn it off, man!” But it won’t turn off -- Glenn hits the power button any number of times, but the TV keeps on keeping on. “It won’t turn off,” he says. “Looks like it’s gay porn to infinity!” Ben side-eyes the camera. “Unplug it,” he says, which Glenn acknowledges and pulls the plug from the wall -- the TV stops, mercifully. They’re spooked enough. Glenn holds up his hands like he’s won a race. “Ta-dah!” he sings. “Anything in the dresser?” he asks, nodding toward the piece. Ben seems afraid to look, but finally opens the top drawer, which he then immediately closes. “What?” Ben swallows dramatically. “Jockstraps and thongs,” he says. He opens the second drawer. “Underwear and posers,” he says, opening the third. “Spandex shorts and muscle shirts.” He grimly nods. “I am ready to cut our losses and not look in Unit Three.” “Oh, we’re so looking in Unit Three,” Glenn says, crossing to where the doorway would be. Instead, there’s literally a hole in the wall, as if someone had torn the cinderblocks away and made a doorway. Scraps of cement pieces and piles of broken cinderblocks still litter the floor. Someone had clearly meant to fix the damage -- there are a couple of loose bags of cement mix amid the rubble -- but clearly nothing had been done, just dust and destruction with a layer of time. “I mean, obviously, someone wanted in there very badly.” “Where the hell is the door?” asks Ben, moving the camera’s tripod to a new location. “What is going on around here?” “Well, it’s pretty full in here,” Glenn says from the doorway. “But I can slide down the wall and get the lights okay.” Again, after a couple of seconds, the lights come on, though this bulb isn’t quite as good, blinking and fizzing as Ben, carrying the camera, enters. (INTERIOR SHOT: Unit Three. A slightly smaller room than the other two -- maybe half the width -- filled with over a dozen wooden pallets loaded with beverage cases, wrapped tightly in heavy industrial plastic. Some are haphazardly stacked on top of others -- each pallet has six layers of product. They are dusty, resembling forgotten furniture after a hasty move or dinosaur carcasses after a meteor shower.) Ben looks into the camera. “The mystery deepens,” he says. Glenn pulls his knife from the Leatherman attached to his belt and cuts into the heavy plastic wrapping on one of the pallets. “Let’s see what they were hoarding,” he says, pulling out a plastic sports drink bottle, gray with red and gold lettering. “CYCLE ONE,” he reads, shrugging. “You ever heard of it?” “No.” Ben pulls out his phone instinctively to search it, but there’s no coverage inside. “Fucking cinderblocks,” he mumbles. Meanwhile, Glenn cracks open the plastic bottle and chugs it on down. “Glenn!” Ben hollers when he looks up. “What are you doing?” “What?” Glenn says, tossing the empty bottle away. “It’s just a sports drink! I didn’t see an expiration on it -- it was good!” He turns to the camera and adds, “Sadly, it hasn’t fermented.” “I can’t believe you just drank that!” Ben protests. “You don’t know anything about it!” “Oh, for the love of God, Ben! Give it up!” Ben shakes it off. “I’m sorry, bro,” he says. “This whole place has got me a little spooked, is all. This is very weird.” Glenn shrugs dramatically. “What? Some guy who used to own a gym loses it all and instead of being homeless and on the streets…” “...he chooses to live in a storage facility?” Ben finishes. “With his collection of porn, thongs, and sports drinks? No, that doesn’t sound weird at all.” Glenn snorts and begins counting the pallets. “Whatever,” he says. “Ready, math guy?” Ben opens his calculator app. “Ready!” he says. Glenn counts. “Each pallet has ten cases per layer and each is six layers high.” “Sixty cases!” Ben announces. “I didn’t even need the calculator for that!” Glenn laughs. “Twenty-four bottles per case means…?” “Fourteen-hundred forty bottles per pallet.” He counts quickly again. “Twenty pallets…?” “Means we own a shit-ton of this stuff.” Glenn smiles toward the camera. “I love math,” he says. “What are we gonna do with twenty-eight thousand, eight-hundred bottles of old sports drink?” “Twenty-eight thousand, seven ninety-nine,” Glenn chuckles, tossing his empty bottle dramatically over his shoulder, where it clunks emptilly around in the cinderblock space. “That’s gonna eat into our profit margins,” Ben says, shaking his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Ben, even if we sell it for a buck a bottle, we still make a shit-ton more than we spent. Plus the gym equipment…” “...and the vintage porn.” Glenn smiles. “And the vintage porn -- we’ll still come out ahead. That it happens to be weird gives us a story to tell, doesn’t it? That’s why we have this camera… and the show…” They both turn to the camera and smile. “Can You Believe We Bought This Shit?” Ben asks dryly. “Okay,” Glenn says, taking charge like he usually does, “we’ll need the Pallet Jack -- we didn’t bring that, did we? -- but we have room in the Hauler to fit all this stuff.” As he talks, he steps back into the middle unit-- the living area -- Ben follows dutifully, taking the camera along. “I doubt we’re gonna want to keep much of this stuff -- I guess the TV works tho, right? And who knows? Maybe there IS a market for vintage porn.” He laughs and walks into the first unit, the one with the gym equipment. “I don’t know how we’re gonna get this stuff outta here -- maybe the guys who buy it can haul it. I don’t know…” Suddenly, he jumps up and grabs the pull-up bar mounted on the top of the cable crossover. Ben is suddenly watching his middle-aged, rugby-thick, out-of-shape brother doing pull-ups -- exercising! “What are you doing?” Ben asks, already laughing. “Pull-ups!” Glenn says breathlessly as he struggles to do a third. He drops heavily onto his feet. “We own a gym now,” he says to his skinny-fat brother. “The Fortunato Brothers Fitness Center! Maybe it’s a sign we should get these sad-ass bods back in shape?” Ben laughs. “You feelin’ okay?” “I feel great!” Glenn says. “Seriously, I feel fucking GREAT! Ever since I had that…” He stops suddenly and looks away, toward the third unit. A devilish smile crosses his face and he exits with purpose back into the other rooms. “Glenn, what are you doing? GLENN!” Ben gives a look toward the camera and is about to go after his brother when Glenn reappears in the broken doorway, holding several bottles of CYCLE ONE. “This shit…” he starts to say. Ben immediately protests, holding his hands up. “Our profit margin!” Glenn tosses a bottle with an easy lob to his brother, but Ben -- never an athlete -- bobbles and drops it. The bottle rolls under the metal gate they’d opened into the hallway beyond. “There goes our profit margin,” Glenn jokes, opening another bottle. As he speaks, he gestures with it. “Why don’t you go grab that bottle? I should’ve known better than to toss it to you.” He slugs down half his new bottle in one gulp, easily. Ben’s tone is serious. “I think you should ease up on that stuff,” he says, making his way toward the metal gate. “You don’t know what’s in it.” “It’s a sports drink.” Glenn waves him off. “It’s just sugar water.” He attempts another set of pull-ups as Ben squats down to go under the door. He’s got a little over two-feet of clearance but he’s reluctant to press his chest to the floor, all that dust and dirt he’d been able to ignore before, when the mystery had captivated him. Now there’s less enthusiasm to follow the rules -- like the game OPERATION, where you shouldn’t touch the sides… Ben’s shoulder whaps the bottom of the metal grate as he rises in the hallway. There is a grinding, loud, metallic shriek and the grate slams solidly onto the cement floor. “Oh, shit,” Ben mumbles. He hears Glenn from inside, slightly muffled. “What happened?” “I must’ve jostled it with my shoulder,” Ben says to the door, speaking a little more loudly than usual, to be heard through the closed door. “That’s why I didn’t make the Limbo Team.” No laugh. Damn. “Okay, let’s heft it back up again!” Ben grabs the handles on his side -- and he can hear Glenn trying to pull the chain on his -- but the door doesn’t budge. “Fuck -- AGAIN!” They try -- even though Ben worries about his back, he throws himself into it -- and fails. The door stays closed. “Fuck,” Ben chants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Well, let’s try one of the other doors,” Glenn suggests from inside. “You have the keys, right?” Ben reaches down to his pockets -- empty? Where…? Oh, shit! He’d taken the keys out of his pocket and put them on the bench -- inside the unit! “Oh, shit!” “What?” “They’re in there!” Ben shouted, slapping the metal door. “They’re in THERE! I took them out of my pocket when I was fumbling with all the camera equipment! They’re on the bench.” He doesn’t hear Glenn’s sighing exhale, but he’s certain that’s what’s happening -- his brother is collecting his wits -- it’s what he always does when he’s angry. “Okay,” Glenn says through the grate. “Is the crowbar in the truck?” “I don’t know,” Ben answers. “I’ll have to check. I don’t think so. I think we took it out when we were emptying from that last job.” “It’s okay,” Glenn says. “We’re gonna need the Pallet Jack anyway. Okay, you head to the Workshop and get the crowbar, the Pallet Jack, any kind of hack saw we might have if we gotta cut those chains…” “Glenn, the Workshop is almost a hundred miles away!” “Well, we don’t have much choice -- unless you’re strong enough to tear through these metal grates with your bare hands, we’re gonna need tools. And the tools are in the Workshop…” “Which is a hundred miles away!” Glenn laughs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere! So you might as well get to it… unless you don’t have the truck keys?” “They’re in the truck.” He can hear Glenn sigh. “You just leave keys everywhere…” Ben doesn’t laugh. “You’re hysterical,” he says. “Look, Glenn, I feel bad enough…” “It’s not a big deal,” his brother says through the metal grate. “It’s just a couple hours. I have plenty to do -- I have games on my phone and shit -- don’t worry. Hey, I can always work out and watch vintage porn, right?” That his brother, trapped because of Ben’s own foolishness, would work so hard to make jokes shows Ben how much Glenn cares. Ben can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I’m sorry, Glenn.” “It’s just gonna be a couple hours -- and we’ll get a good story out of it. Don’t worry, Ben, it’s all good. Now go get the tools -- I’m done talking through a garage door. Frankly, I feel like working out.” “Don’t drink any more of that shit!” “Too late!” For some reason, as much as anything else, that lights a fire in Ben’s pants. He can’t shake his uneasy feeling about that stupid sports drink -- he’s sure he’s heard of it before. On the floor against the far wall sits the bottle he’d come out here for -- without much consideration, he picks it up off the floor and puts it in the side pocket of his cargo shorts (where the keys had been). Ben hurries down the stairs and exits the building -- this time smart enough to block the door with a cinderblock, so it won’t lock by accident behind him. The keys are in the truck -- thank God for small favors! -- but the crowbar is not. There’s not a helpful tool in the bed. (They’d taken the toolbox out to create room for all the loot they were gonna haul from this Buy-It score!) Just one stupid thing after the next -- and here they are now, Glenn locked in a unit with vintage porn! So it would be REALLY stupid if something happened to me now, Ben thinks, driving a little too old-lady like. But it’s better than getting pulled over, or having an accident, or any of the other myriad horror stories he imagines happening as he drives the nearly hundred miles to their Workshop while his brother is trapped. “I just got here!” he texts when he arrives at the Workshop, nearly two hours later -- the text isn’t delivered. He tries to shrug it off, shutting the door of the truck -- the one shrink-wrapped with their Buy-It Brothers logo -- and enters their warehouse (their “Workshop”) -- the one sporting that same logo over cartoon-versions of he and Glenn. (Ben thought they looked a little too much like Laurel and Hardy, but no one knew that reference anymore.) With haste, he gathers the things he’ll need, the crowbar, the hacksaw -- he has to locate the Pallet Jack. He’s wasting so much time on it, he considers leaving it behind. Fortunately, just as he’s thinking that, he trips over it. (It’s mostly hidden beneath a hastily discarded tarp.) It takes some little effort to lift it up into the bed of the truck -- lifting stuff is more his brother’s kind of thing -- but he finally does it, breathing heavily as he rolls the jack deeper into the bed near the cab and straps it in. He’s sweating a little -- and thirsty. Without realizing it, his hand touches the bottle still stashed in his pocket. The CYCLE ONE. He can’t resist. Though he knows his priority is getting back and rescuing his brother, Ben takes a moment to fire up his desktop and do some internet snooping, to satisfy his curiosity (or his paranoia). Cycle One -- there it is -- a sports drink that was all the rage twenty years ago. Internet rumors claim it was the real deal, adding insane amounts of masculine muscle and power, but there were side effects: dangerously increased libido, loss of sexual inhibition, loss of individuality. Crazy internet bullshit -- still, there are dozens of flexing testimonials, young men eager to show off their “transformations.” All of them looking a tiny bit… zealous, perhaps? Another article links Cycle One to a Justice Club Super-Villain, a hyper-muscled bodybuilder by the punny name of King Rex. The pic that accompanies this article shows an impossibly muscled man with a beard transforming a kneeling Superion, the Earth’s most powerful superhero, and turning him into Rex’s worshipful gay slave. The article claims the “secret ingredient” in Cycle One is King Rex’s magical ejaculate. A deeper dive: coincidently, upon the disappearance of this King Rex into the Multiverse, supplies of Cycle One became limited overnight -- and precious. Several would-be cults formed around the protection -- and distribution -- of this suddenly valuable resource. People went to great lengths to horde the stuff -- vaults, fallout shelters, armed-guards at storage units… Ben surfaces from his rabbit hole with the realization of what he and his brother have stumbled upon. In this instance, knowledge hasn’t seemed to give him any power at all -- other than to realize there’s danger, which he’s already suspected. Thanks, knowledge. Hurriedly, Ben gets back to the truck -- leaving the bottle of Cycle One on his desk -- realizing he’s wasted almost twenty minutes online, and heads the ninety-some-odd miles back to the storage units. He wants to floor it and speed the entire way, but he fears getting pulled over, or getting in an accident, or any of the other myriad nightmares that would end with his brother being forever trapped. “Almost there,” he texts at a red light -- the text isn’t delivered. Damn cinder-blocks -- they give little hope. He leaves the main road for the access road, the access road for the side road, the side road for the private drive, until finally, the abandoned ETERNAL STORAGE building comes into view, across the cracked and weed-filled parking lot. Apparently, this is all to be torn down to create an Amazon Warehouse. The Amazons replace the Eternals -- sounds like a bad superhero movie -- Ben can’t help but chuckle, despite the situation. A nerd at heart. He parks next to the door he’d left jammed open with the cinderblock and hurries back inside, grabbing the crowbar out of the truck bed on his way. He bounds up the stairs to the second floor -- as fast as his skinny, awkward body can “bound” anyway -- less like a gazelle and more like a clumsy giraffe with a few extra knees -- and lopes down the hall to their lot. It’s been just a little over five-and-a-half hours, and his brother wasn’t in immediate danger -- (he certainly wasn’t gonna go thirsty) -- still, Ben is worried. From halfway down the hall he can hear it. Right up next to the stuck door it’s impossible to miss: clanging weights, grunts and groans -- his brother is working out! “Glenn?” he calls, slapping the metal door. “Glenn, you OK?” “Ben?” he hears, then the thud of a barbell being dropped. The voice is closer to the door. “You’re back already? I still gotta do deadlifts.” “You’re hysterical,” Ben says, smiling with relief -- his brother isn’t dead. “Are you OK?” He can hear Glenn’s laughter. “WAY better than OK. Bro, this stuff is AMAZING, this CYCLE ONE shit! We’ve struck gold!” “Glenn…” “A buck a bottle? Fuck that. A THOUSAND bucks a bottle! For this…? Hell yeah, they’ll pay it.” “Glenn, I’ve been doing some research on it, the Cycle One, and…” “I don’t care what the Internet says right now, Bro! Let’s just get this fucking door open.” “Um… Okay, I have the crowbar!” “Great! Let’s see if you can get the bottom up a little bit.” Ben jams the crowbar beneath the door -- he’s expecting resistance, but the flat end of the bar simply slides under. Lifting the curled end, Ben slides a piece of broken cinder block beneath to act as a fulcrum. When he attempts to raise the door, the metal dents, lifting a small section up about an inch. When Ben removes the crowbar, he sees his brother stick his fat fingers through the opening from the other side. “I’m almost free!” Glenn says and laughs. Then, he says, “Hey!” like he’s had an idea. “Make another one of those dents about two feet to your left. I got an idea!” Ben shrugs -- “Okay…” -- and slides to his left. Again, the crowbar easily goes under the metal lip. Ben uses the same piece of cinder block and creates another hand-sized dent in the base of the sliding door -- the screech of the metal is almost uncomfortable. Glenn is saying, “Perfect… perfect,” from the other side of the door. “Okay, let’s give it a try!” “What?” “Let’s try to lift it! Grab the handle out there!” “Glenn, we can’t lift this…” “I told you -- I’m fresh! I haven’t done deadlifts, yet.” Bending over rather than squatting, Ben grabs the handle in the center of the roll-up metal door. He’s indulging his brother -- there’s no way they’re moving this door -- so he doesn’t give it his all. So he’s surprised when, on his brother’s count of “Three!” the door actually jerks up a foot or so -- Ben nearly loses his balance. “That’s better,” says Ben’s brother. “I can get a better grip on it now. Hold on a sec…” Ben can hear the sounds of drinking from inside and the clink clunk of an empty plastic bottle as it’s casually tossed away. He burps. “Okay,” he says, again gripping the base of the metal -- Ben can see his sneakers beneath the door. “Let’s do this. Grab on!” Ben grabs the door handle a little more seriously this time, squatting opposite his brother. “One. Two… THREE!” They both throw energy into the movement, but the door doesn’t budge. “No!” Glenn yells. “AGAIN!” A little -- it moves a little -- but nothing that’s gonna rescue anybody anytime soon. “Fuck this… FUCK THIS!” Glenn yells, then Ben can hear him mumble. “Just need a little more. Just a little more…” Again, the sound of drinking, the empty clunk of a thrown bottle. “Fuck this. Let’s get this fucking thing!” They both heave. It moves… slightly! “MORE!” And they both strain. Then, unexpectedly and suddenly enough to surprise Ben, the door doesn’t slide up so much as it gives in to the pressure and folds, shrieking a metallic screech like a tin can collapsing. The force throws Ben off balance and he trips over the crowbar, slamming into the cinderblock wall on the opposite side of the hall. So hard, it knocks the wind from him -- and from the way his head slams back into the brick, he knows he’s about to lose consciousness, too. The image he’s left with: his brother. His brother! Not the teddy-bear, snowman-shaped sibling he’s known for forty years -- not unless his brother is the Hulk and Ben has never figured it out. Standing there in the doorway, arms over his head pushing the door up further, Glenn is massive -- his muscles are impossible! Thick and heavy, but not ripped and “cut” like a bodybuilder in competition. Glenn’s lines are curvaceous, not tight, his flabby tummy has become a “roid-gut”, big, curved lines, round muscle bellies, bloated and swollen -- he wears electric blue posing trunks and a spandex half-shirt that doesn’t reach the bottom of his bulbous pecs, exposing his thick nipples. His biceps are easily as big as his head, maybe bigger while flexed like this -- Glenn’s breathless in his joy, in his win, in his show of power. Look at the size of him! Ben can see his brother is fighting a hard-on in the tiny, shiny posers he barely wears as he flexes his triumph at ripping the door from its track -- he’s so masculine, but what he wears is so… flowery. Feminine. He flexes a most-muscular, popping his traps and his pecs -- just like the Hulk used to on the old TV show when they were kids, fantasizing about being so big. And then -- helplessly -- Ben finally passes out, lost in confusion and darkness. Only certain that he’s too late. ********************************************************************************* Chock! That’s the sound he wakes to, the heavy stone stacking of brick. Chock! Or cinderblocks… Ben opens his eyes tentatively, taking a moment to process where he is. Although he’s leaning against the wall, there are pallets of CYCLE ONE all around him -- he must be in Unit Three! Why…? Chock! What the fuck is that? As he stirs, rising to investigate, he discovers there’s a chain wrapped several times around his ankle -- padlocked on! -- connecting him to the pallet. He screams. “Glenn! GLENN!” “Oh, you’re awake,” he hears from somewhere across the unit, out of sight. “And here I was trying to be quiet…” Chock! “What the fuck is going on?” Glenn laughs. “Good tv.” “What? Glenn, I’m chained to this pallet.” “Yeah, I know -- calm down. Freakin’ out is not gonna help you, bro. It’ll be easier if you think of it as an Escape Room -- the intent IS for you to get out, after all.” Chock! “I don’t understand.” There’s a heavy sigh. “Can you stand up, at least?” his brother asks. “So we can talk face to face.” Ben stands, the chain uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his headache pounding. The pallets are just under six feet high (stacked with cases of Cycle One -- perhaps the last cases of Cycle One), and Ben can see over the top. Not that that lessens the horror. His brother -- his massively muscled brother -- Ben still can’t adjust to the change -- is resealing the hole in the cinderblock wall between units two and three, using the broken pieces from before. He spreads a sloppy layer of cement with his bare hands and then drops a cinderblock into it. Chock! He’s rebuilt the wall only a little higher than his chest, so Ben can still see Glenn’s pecs, traps and shoulders -- and of course, his arms. (He’s so big -- it’s just not possible.) “What are you doing?” Ben asks, barely keeping the fear from his voice. “Okay, again -- calm down,” Glenn said patronizingly, spreading cement. “Freaking out will just waste your time. It’s easy to get out of here -- I’m even gonna tell you how.” Chock! “Glenn, what the fuck…?” Glenn reaches through the opening with his muscular arm -- he’s holding a flashlight and a set of keys (he’s getting cement on them from his fingers). He drops them on the floor, well on the other side of the room. “These are the keys to your chains,” he says, pulling his arm back and peeking through the gap. “And my torch, which is a literary allusion -- forget it. Anyway, I figure after drinking a dozen bottles or so, you’ll be big enough to drag that pallet over here and get these keys.” “WHAT?!?” “I told ya, it’s good tv.” Chock! “See, Ben,” Glenn says as he continues re-building the wall, “I knew you wouldn’t drink it voluntarily. No doubt you ran home and researched it and found all the reasons NOT to drink it -- that’s so like you -- but I say when you come across a magic muscle potion, you drink it! That’s the difference between you and me.” Chock! “Would you please stop doing that?” Glenn doesn’t stop -- he continues. “But then I thought, what if he’s his normal smart-ass self? What if he just tears through the heavy plastic and empties the pallet? That’d make it pretty easy to drag across the room, right? So I decided to create another little obstacle for you. Even if you cheat on the pallet (and personally, I don’t think you’re strong enough to tear through the industrial plastic), you still gotta get through this wall. But I figure, after you drink a case, you’ll do it with ease. Look what I did to that fuckin’ roll-up door!” He laughs. “It’s so fucking awesome, Bro!” “Glenn… please…” Chock! “I considered simply force-feeding you, but that’s kind of an overused trope, isn’t it? This way makes more compelling drama. Did you see the camera over by the sliding door?” Ben looks to his left and sees the camera on its tripod atop a pallet of CYCLE ONE, aimed at him, filming his dilemma. Good TV... “I filmed my own transformation,” Glenn adds. “Well, not so solid at the beginning, but I have a cum-shot at the end that’ll blow you out of the water! And my Scanty Fashion Show will get us a ton of views!” “What?” “Trust me, Ben -- this stuff enhances EVERYTHING!” “Glenn, please don’t do this.” “You’ll thank me, bro. That I know -- you just need the right motivation. String bean like you… it’s what you’ve always dreamed of. Big muscles. Feels good. No work. Right up your alley.” Chock! The wall is almost complete -- just a small gap at the top. Enough to maybe get a grip on… Ben pulls on the chain -- he’s securely in place. This is all a little too melodramatic for him. Would his brother actually abandon him here and let him die? What the fuck? “For the love of God, Glenn!” he shouts as the last cinderblock wedges into place. “Stop!” “Get drinking,” he hears his brother say, his voice muffled. “You can be out in an hour! I’ll be over here working out and modeling posers -- haha!” “Glenn! GLENN!” But Glenn doesn’t answer. All Ben hears is the sounds of gay porn -- vintage gay porn -- the moaning and the raw need permeating the cement wall. Beyond that, the clang of weights in the first unit -- Glenn is at it again. Ben screams out of frustration more than anything else, knowing no one can hear him -- they’re in the middle of nowhere. He’s trapped -- TRAPPED! And completely at the mercy of his brother’s dark sense of 19th century drama. He sits against the wall in a fetal position, crying. Why does this have to be such a difficult choice? At the heart, Glenn is right -- he hates being skinny -- he hates being String Bean. Muscle Zombies searching for hidden stashes of Cycle One… Transformations. He still seems like the same Glenn. (Except maybe the chaining his brother around the ankle part…) Just a fuck-ton bigger -- more masculine. Sexier. He holds the bottle in his hand -- firm, hard plastic -- unemotional, cold. What if you held a magic muscle-growth potion in your hands? Would you drink it? Knowing what it would do? (He hears his brother’s obsessive training.) Knowing what it would change? (He hears the vintage porn.) He looks at the camera and flies it the bird. Fuck you, good TV. Finally, long minutes later, the sound of him cracking the bottle echoes around Unit Three.
  5. Ddaadd

    Science of Muscles

    Science of Muscles By Ddaadd Dan was a scrawny kid. He wasn't never really athletic. He did get bullied though. Being a thin and weak freshman in Wintergreen Calley Highschool is like being an injured gazelle in the presence of a cheetah. He was manly picked on by Roger, the QB of the football team. He was the one of the biggest freshman, and hated Dan. As Dan walk in the locker room to change into more comfy clothes, Roger and a few other jocks on the football team ambushed him. Two of Rogers friends grabbed Dan and Rogers took Dan's book bag. "It would be such a shame if all your books and binders got all wet." Roger said. He took out a bottle filled of what looked, and most definitely smelled like urine. Before Dan could even say a word, Roger dumped the entire bottle in to his bag. "Why are you doing this?!" Dan asked in a panic. "Because we're the Alphas..." Rogers said as he flexed his bulging bicep. "And you're the Omega." He took out another bottle of urine and walked over to Dan. "Please don't!" Dan begged. Rogers began to pour the piss all over Dan."You will never be able to have this kind of body you scrawny little bitch." Rogers said. He took off his shirt and Dan was forced to look at his defined abs and bulging pecs. He flexed his pecs a couple of times and he and his friends left Dan in the locker room alone. Dan grabbed his urine soaked bag and walked home. Roger was right. He was jealous of Roger's body. And he would never be buff. That was fate and he accepted it. When he got home, his Dad was home already, which was a suprise. Dan's dad is a scientific researcher at the Future of Tomorrow Laboratories. Usually he's not home till 8:30. Him being home at 4 was a suprise. Dan threw his bag in his room and put some dry clothes on. He went down into the basement. It was his dad's personal laboratory. It was also the laundry room. When Dan's dad saw the soaked clothes he asked what happened. "Roger again! He soaked everything in urine. I'm so fed up with him. I wish someone double his size could give him a taste of his own medicine!" Dan replied. "Hmm... Well Dan I may have a solution for you. We have been researching human growth hormones in the Labs. I can maybe give you a boost to your muscle mass." His dad told him. Dan filled with excitement couldn't speak, for all he could think about is crushing Roger. He nodded furiously and his dad began to create a syrum. As Dan's dad was doing that, Dan went upstairs to clean out his bag. When he finished cleaning everything, Dan's dad yelled to him that the syrum was done. Dan ran downstairs to the lab and grabbed the syrum and gulped it down. He waited a few minuets and then had extreme cravings for meat. He wanted steak soooo much. Dan's dad fired up the grill and Dan ended up eating 6 whole steaks. Dan was lucky enough that he had these leftover steaks from a few nights ago when nobody showed up to his Dad's dinner party. Dan went upstairs and stripped down naked. He waited for a few minuets and he started to feel hot. He noticed veins popping out all over his body. His muscles started to bulge and grow. His arms grew first. His biceps bulged and grew to about the size of Rogers. His shoulders broadened and grew. He moaned in pleasure, as it felt so good, almost better then sex. He developed an defined eight pack that has hard as granite within seconds. His pecs bulged out and grew too. His quads became thick and hard and his calves grew instantly. Within 5 minuets a scrawny freshman boy grew into a hard as iron muscle machine. His voiced suddenly deepened and he realized it was over. He was so happy to finally show Roger how it feels to be bullied. He fell asleep almost instantly. When he arrived at school, people stared in amazement at his body, which was basically visible because all his clothes were to tight. One flex and bye bye clothes, he thought. By the afternoon, he had become super popular. People thought he was attractive and even the straight guys would fuck him. Rogers decided to confront Dan. He brought his friends as backup, just in case something were to happen. "Hey squirt..." Hey said to Dan. Dan stood up. He was indeed bigger than Rogers. "Don't call me squirt anymore, Rogers" Dan said as he flexed his bicep. The seam on his shirt started to rip. As he flexed every muscle he could, his shirt ripped , revealing his defined iron body. There was no spot of fat anywhere. "What happed to you?" Rogers asked, frightful now. "I fucking grew, what does it look like punk?" Dan said, trying to be as intimidating as possible. "I'm the alpha now." He said to Roger. Dan spit on Roger and it landed in his mouth. "Agh! What the fuck man?!" "The fuck you just say to me!" Dan flexed his pecs and it made Roger so jealous. Dan wanted more. He noticed the notebook his dad was holding when he made the syrum. He went home and rummages through his Dad's lab and found it. He made 2 more and notice a little note stuck in the notebook. It read "If the consumer concentrates on a person, he can steal muscle mass from him. On the opposite spectrum, he can also give muscle mass to others without any consequences on either party". After eating 20 steaks . Dan retreated to his bedroom to grow. Before he could strip, his mauve bulged and bursts out of his clothes. His biceps went from 16" to 20" to 25" to finally 32" within seconds. His pecs swelled and he is nearly blinded by them. His abs harden even more and grow. He is a God of muscle. He jogged out to the closet clothing store to by XXL clothes, which were still pretty tight. When he went to school. Everyone was awed at his godlyness. He searched and found Roger who started running away, but Dan grabbed him and all the other Jocks began to run. Dan focused on Roger, and started to grow. Roger started to get smaller and smaller. Dan grew and grew and burst out of his clothes. Rogers was reduced to a scarwny little bitch. Dan stood in the middle of the hallway naked. He was going on a Jock hunt. He found anybody that had some muscle on them and took it. He bulged and grew. People were still in love with him and his muscle. By the end of the day his biceps were 50" and he was truly a god.
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