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

This is not a feel-good story. There is violence, gore, and death. In honor of Halloween, I decided to write a what is basically a muscle slasher story. So, if you like muscle snuff, this is for you. The first three chapters will come today, so you can start it, since it is on the longer side. The rest will be posted on Halloween. Synopsis: Four friends (Chris, Alex, Danilo, and Niles) are invited to what they hope will be a fun weekend at the family Estate of two of their college acquaintances (Evan and Rupert Glencross). But joy soon turns to horror when the friends discover why the muscular Glencross brothers really invited them. The friends are plunged into a race for their lives as they struggle to escape the estate. “Blood is life. Blood is power.”- Frederick Glencross, 1872 It is said that if a house is old enough, one must assume someone has died in it. So, it stands to reason that the older the house, the more death it has seen. Glencross Manor is 200 years old, and if its blood-stained walls could talk, they would scream... Chapter 1 “I bless the raaains down in Aaafricaaa!” Danilo belted out at the top of his lungs, singing along to the radio. He couldn’t hold a tune if you paid him. Alex told him as much as he turned the car off the main drag and onto a tree-lined side street. “You don’t like my singing?” Danilo asked, grinning toward Alex in the driver’s seat. “Just don’t think of trying out for The Voice,” Niles said from the backseat, briefly looking up from the game on his phone. “The wild dogs cry out in the niiiight!” Danilo sang. “Oh God. It’s so bad,” Alex said, through a laugh. “And your accent is not helping.” Danilo turned around and looked through the space between his seat and the side of the car. “What about you, Chris? Do you think my singing is all that bad, because I think I’m as good as Toto?” Chris stopped staring out the car window and said, “As good as Toto the dog, maybe.” “Ooooh, burn,” Niles said. “My man said you sound like a dog trying to sing.” “You all should hear my Sam Smith,” Danilo announced. “No!” The other’s said in unison, then burst into laughter. Chris turned back to the window and watched the trees whiz by. The sound of his friend’s conversation melted into background static as he entered a near trance-like state. Ever since he was little, he found it easy to space-out on long car rides, lost in the world of his thoughts. He thought it was strange for them to be invited to Glencross Estate. Evan Glencross and his fraternal twin, Rupert, were only casual acquaintances of the group. They were known through mutual friends and had hung out with them no more than twice all of last semester. The Glencross brothers were seniors, while Chris and his friends were Sophomores, and there was very little fraternizing between the years. The brothers were rich, from old money. They lived on an estate for crying out loud. Chris would be shocked if he and his three friends had $400 in all their bank accounts, combined. But the most glaring difference between the brothers and the friends was physical. Evan and Rupert Glencross were huge. They had the kind of comically big muscles that turned heads and made any man jealous. Both were football stars and very popular with the opposite sex. Chris and his friends were four, short, skinny guys who never touched a weight set they hadn’t been required to in PE class. “Why do you think they invited us, seriously?” Chris asked. “Man, you’re still on that?” Niles looked at him and sucked his teeth. “Who cares why? We’re going to be living like rich people for a weekend.” “He’s scared it’s a prank,” Alex said. “It could be,” said Chris. “Evan and Rupert are nice jocks,” Danilo said. “They will not prank us. Besides, they could have done that on campus.” “Yeah man. Just try to enjoy yourself, for a change.” Niles tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey guys, I think that’s it up ahead,” Alex said. “That place is huge and look at that wall around it,” Niles said with awe. “That thing would give Trump a hardon.” “Imagine being so rich you don’t have a fence; you have a fucking wall,” Alex said, shaking his head. Chris looked out the car’s back window. Then out the side windows. Then out the front window. He smiled. “That’s nothing. Imagine being so rich your driveway is a road.” “Huh?” Danilo said, looking confused. “I just noticed it,” Chris said. “There are no turn-offs on this road and no other houses. And look, it leads straight up to the wall. We’ve been on a private road for a while now.” “Oh shit!” Alex said with a laugh. “Why didn’t I make that connection back there. The road we turned on was called Glen Drive. Duh.” “Another thing I notice,” Chris said. “We’re completely isolated out here.” “Oh, there you go again with the paranoia,” Niles said. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I’m the only black guy, and I’ve watched enough movies to know that if the rich white folks are into freaky shit, I’m the first to go.” He laughed. “And yet I’m as calm as can be.” Alex stopped the car in front of the gate, which Alex assumed was 12 feet tall. It was solid metal, painted black, standing in sharp contrast to the pale stone wall it connected to. Chris eyed a box attached to the wall with a beeping red light, various buttons, and what appeared to be a camera lens. “I guess that thing is the intercom,” Alex said, undoing his seatbelt. “I’m going to press-” Before he could finish his sentence, the tall black gates opened, as if pushed by an invisible giant. “Guess not,” Alex said, buckling his seat belt. He drove through the gates and let out a low “fuck me.” Chris’ jaw dropped. Danilo let out a “woah” Niles clapped his hands together and said, Chris had expected big, but Glencross Manor could only be described as palatial, something you would expect from European royalty, not in New England. It was a mountain of marble and brick assembled in the classical form, a testament to excess and wealth. His eyes were immediately drawn to the mammoth portico. Where you would expect to find roman style columns supporting it, instead there were two massive statues in the form of nude, muscular men with their arms stretched high. The men were more heavily muscled than the Farnese Hercules. “Interesting architectural choice,” Chris said, pointing. “And anatomically correct too.” Niles laughed. The driveway ended in a large circle right in front of the house. There was a red Toyota already there, which Alex parked behind. Chris immediately got out of the car and stared up at the statues: solid marble, stunning detail. He didn’t notice Evan and Rupert Glencross had opened the door and were standing at the entrance, until one of them spoke. “What’s up guys?” Rupert said, in a low base. Chris’ eyes immediately fell on the brothers. Both wore shorts, tanks, and sandals, there muscular frames on full display. They took up every inch of space in the doorway, looking like contest ready bodybuilders. “I’m good parking here?” Alex pointed to the car. “Sure thing,” Evan Glencross said, sauntering down the steps, his voice every bit as deep as his brother’s. The friends and the brothers greeted each other with handshakes and bro hugs. Chris couldn’t help but feel an erection growing in his pants, being so close to all that muscle. Muscle that was attached to two handsome faces. He could never get used to their size. When did these guys start working out? When they were three? They were both a little north of 6’ 3’’ and wide as barn doors. Big enough to make Chris and his friends, not one of whom was over 5’ 6’’, feel like children. When Rupert Glencross shook his hand, his fingers nearly disappeared in the mitten like paw, rough with callouses. And the hug! Like grabbing a sack of boulders covered in skin. He couldn’t help but wonder how many kinds of roids these two handsome freaks were taking. “Thanks again for the invite,” Alex said. The others voiced their agreement, and complimented the home. “No problem, guys,” Evan said. “We just hope you’ll enjoy yourselves.” He ran a hand through his brown hair and flashed a set of pearly whites. “We will,” Niles said. “You guys got a pool?” “Two, one indoor and one outdoor,” Rupert said as he and his brother led the friends inside. “But first, you need to meet our father.” “Is he as big as you guys?” Danilo asked, jokingly. Rupert paused and turned. With a slight grin plastered on his handsome alpha male face, mirrored by his brother, he said, “He’s bigger.” Chapter 2 They followed the hulking brothers across white shining tile, down an expansive hallway, framed in wooden arches. “I honestly expected a butler to greet us at the door,” Niles said. Evan turned his torso slightly and glanced back towards Niles. “All the staff are off for the entire weekend,” he said. “Well, there goes my plans of being waited on hand and foot,” Alex said, laughing. “Don’t worry,” Evan Glencross said, “You all will be taken care of.” Chris stared at him, as he spoke. The sentiment was nice: “you all will be taken care off.” But he didn’t like the way he said it. The tone was filled with a false warmth. It was ominous, more a warning than a comfort. Chris shook his head. That was just his paranoia filling his mind with nonsense. This would be a fun weekend and he would enjoy himself. He repeated that silently, like a mantra. “And here we are,” Rupert said after they had walked God knows how far. He gestured ceremoniously to a large sitting room. “Father, the other guests are here.” Other guests? Chris had assumed it was just his friend group who had been invited for the weekend, then he remembered the other car parked out front. They entered the sitting room and the elder Glencross rose from the wingback chair he had been sitting in. Rupert hadn’t been lying when he said their father was ‘bigger’. He was callosal. The largest, most physically impressive human he had ever seen. From the look of awe on his friends faces, he could tell they felt the same way. “Guys, this is our father, Lawrence,” Rupert said. “Father this is Chris, Danilo, Niles, and Alex.” He pointed to each of the friends in turn. Lawrence Glencross stepped toward them and shook their hands, nearly crushing them with his beartrap like grip. He was handsome for a man near fifty, with short brown hair, greying at the sides. He stood a full head taller than his sons and must have weighed at least 100 pounds more. His khaki chinos and navy tee looked painted on to his lean, hulking physique. Chris didn’t understand how the clothes didn’t burst to shreds at the slighted movement. “Pleasure to meet you boys,” Lawrence said in a deep voice. “You’re huge!” Niles exclaimed, unable to hold in his shock. Lawrence and his sons laughed. “I get that a lot,” Lawrence said, casually bouncing his pecs and flexing his arms. “Do you compete in bodybuilding,” Chris asked, his eyes rolling over the mountain of muscle in front of him, briefly pausing to take in the mammoth bulge in the crotch. “Oh, heavens no,” Lawrence waived his hands dismissively. “Glencross men are just big. Always have been.” He gestured to the wall behind him. Chris noticed it was covered with portraits of men in dress clothes. The oldest were paintings. The newest, photographs. “The men of the Glencross line,” Lawrence said, smiling with pride. Each and every one of them was huge. “Amazing,” Danilo said. “Great genetics,” said Niles. “And other things,” Lawrence said with a smile. Chris assumed he meant steroids at first, but they didn’t have steroids over a 100 years ago. “That accent.” Lawrence turned to Danilo. “Somewhere in Eastern Europe?” “Ukraine,” Danilo said. “Ah, very nice,” Lawrence said. “There are a lot of big men over there. But I see you weren’t blessed in that department. None of you were.” The four friends looked at each other, with confused faces. Lawrence’s face was serious when he spoke. The smile he had, had disappeared. “I guess not,” Alex said, finally, with an uneasy smile. “Make a muscle!” Lawrence commanded. “All of you!” The friends each raised an arm and flexed. Lawrence felt each muscle. His hand could wrap all the way around each arm with ease. “So tiny,” he mumbled. “Can any of you fight?” He raised a fist as big as a ham and bought it down with shocking speed, but stopping short. The four friends flinched. Chris thought he might piss his pants. Lawrence turned to his sons and grinned. “You boys didn’t want a challenge this year, I see. They’re as small as the other two.” “Does it matter?” Evan asked, clearly annoyed. The elder Glencross shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Though, I always found it more fun when they were a bit of a challenge. Oh well. It’s your birthday. You boys do it how you like.” Birthday? “Alex,” Chris whispered, “Did you know it was their birthday?” Alex shook his head. “No.” “I’m a little confused,” Niles said. “What’s going on?” Lawrence smiled. “There’s a game Glencross men can only play on their birthdays. You’ve been invited here to play it. Two other players are already here, taking refreshments out back.” “What kind of game?” Chris eyed him suspiciously. “You’ll see,” Lawrence said, “But first…” He raised a basket. “Put your cell phones in here. The game will test your intelligence so cell phones will allow you to cheat and we can’t have that.” “We’re starting the game now?” Alex asked. “The game started the moment you were invited,” Rupert said. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the phones back, obviously,” He laughed. The friends apprehensively dropped their phones into the basket. “Good!” Lawrence said, setting the basket on a table beside him. “Now boys, show your guests to the back and let the game begin.” Chapter 3 They were led to a large deck, overlooking an expansive back yard. The yard would have been impressive on its own, but it was made more impressive by an expansive hedge row maze the seemed to stretch as far as Chris’ eyes could see, a green sea that must have taken decades to grow. Two other guys were seated at a table on the deck, sipping lemonade and eating from a tray of finger sandwiches. Chris thought he might have seen them around campus before, but didn’t know them. “This is Jeremy,” Evan pointed to an Asian guy on the left, “and this is Mike,” he pointed to a white guy on the right. Both were short and skinny like Chris and his friends. Just what kind of game were they going to play? Chris thought it odd that not a single one of the Glencross’ jock friends was present on their supposed birthday. He expected them to have countless tall, over-muscled buddies to fraternize with. Instead, they choose to hang out with 6 skinny dweebs? Evan introduced the four friend’s and the handshakes started. “Nice to meet you,” Jeremy said, extending his hand toward Chris. “I’ve seen you in the student Union. You’re in the Culinary Club, right.” “I thought I’ve seen you around,” Chris said. “Yeah, I’m in the culinary club.” “Cool.” “While you guys get more acquainted me and my bro are gonna go get ready,” Rupert said. “Help yourselves to the food and drinks.” “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Alex stepped over and took a finger sandwich. Niles and Danilo followed. The brothers stepped back into the house, grinning at each other like they were sharing a silent joke. “So, are you guys good friends with Even and Rupert?” Mike asked. “Not really,” Chris said. “More, acquaintances.” “Weird,” Mike replied, picking up a sandwich. “Neither are we. We just know them casually through a friend of a friend. I was honestly surprised to get an invite.” “Yeah,” Jeremy said, with a mouthful, “But who could pass-up a chance to spend a weekend in a place like this, for free.” He gestured to the estate. “Right,” Danilo nodded, stuffing his mouth. “Father’s a little weird, though,” Alex whispered, stifling a laugh. Everyone nodded their agreement. “Did he comment on your size, too?” Chris asked Jeremy. “Yeah, it was weird.” He frowned slightly. “Like, dude, I get it, you’re huge, but not all of us can be a giant.” “Oh shit,” Mike said, nearly choking. He glanced up and Chris followed his gaze, as did the others. Lawrence Glencross was standing in the window overlooking the deck, staring at them, expressionless. When he saw them looking, he closed the curtain and disappeared behind a panel of white. The group shared a look, then burst into laughter. All except Chris, who merely smiled nervously. “Hey guys!” A deep voice boomed behind them. The group turned away from the table of refreshments to find Evan and Rupert bounding out the door. Chris’ eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw what the twins were wearing: skimpy black posing trunks that struggled to contain their massive packages, and nothing else. Every inch of their huge, muscular bodies was exposed, each muscle group bouncing and flexing as they walked across the deck. “What. The. Fuck?” Alex said. Everyone’s mouth was agape. “Oh shit, the white people are into some freaky shit. I’m screwed.” Niles mumbled beneath his breath, just loud enough for the group to hear, but not the Twins. The Glencross brothers beamed, grinning like clowns, obviously enjoying the reaction their insanely developed physiques were getting from the skinny guys assembled before them. They bounced their bulbous pecs and hit a few poses. Chris could feel his cock stiffening again. He adjusted it discretely and noticed others in the group were doing the same. How could you not get hard when witnessing such a display of the perfect male form. The twins were enjoying themselves as well, sporting bulges that threatened to pop their skimpy posers right off. “We’re so big, bro,” Evan said. “Yeah.” Rupert grunted, flexing harder. “And we’re gonna get bigger.” “So big.” Evan slapped his brother’s delt. “Yeah! So fucking big!” Chris saw a wet spot forming in Rupert’s posers. Was he leaking pre-cum? Was he getting that turned on by his and his brother’s size? What the fuck was going on? And why were they invited? “This is weird,” Danilo whispered. “Agreed,” Chris said, his eyes fixed on the rippling mounds of muscle before him. The brothers were lost in a trance like state, of flexing and grunting, loudly expressing their desire for more size, and getting more turned on as they did it. They flexed so hard, they began to sweat in the late morning sun. One would slap the other and then vice versa. They were getting themselves worked up, pumped for something. And then it was over. The brothers faced the group, grinning and panting, skin red and glistening. “You ready to start the game?” Rupert looked over them. “What’s the game?” Mike asked. “And why are you dressed like that?” Alex gestured to their pumped-up bodies. “And most importantly, what did we just watch?” Niles said, shaking his head, a hardon visible in his pants. The brothers looked at each other and laughed. “The game is called ‘You vs Our Muscles,’” Evan said. “It used to be played in the house, a long time ago, but the maze was put in 50 years ago and it’s been played outside ever since. The maze starts here at the deck and exits all the way over there, by the woods. As you can see, there’s no way around the house from this point. The only place to go is through the maze. The object of the game is to make it through the maze without getting caught by me or my brother. We’re dressed like this because clothing would get way to constrictive-” “And we don’t want to get our clothes dirty,” Rupert chimed in. Evan nodded, “Yeah, that too. This game gets messy. What you just saw was us getting hyped up to win.” He made a fist and slapped it into his other hand. “Understand.” The group stared at each other, a little confused. It sounded simple enough, but it was still so strange. “it’s like a fancy game of tag,” Mike said. “What happens if you catch one of us?” “You versus our muscles, happens,” Even said. “Mike, you come here, and we’ll show you guys. The rest of you stand by the entrance to the maze and be ready to start.” Everyone did as commanded by the muscle-god brother. Chris stood dead center in the middle of the five by the maze entrance, staring up at the deck. Mike stood in front of the brothers, looking like a child compared to them. Their arms were as thick as his legs. Their pecs, as big as his head. His twig like body looked frail in comparison to the towering twins. “If this is a test of strength, I think you guys are going to win.” Mike laughed. “Just stand still and shut up,” Even said, grabbing hold of Mike’s left arm. Rupert took his right. The brothers then placed a hand on each side of Mikes head, with their thumbs locked under his chin. Their comically huge hands each covered a whole side of his skull. “High five, bro,” Evan said. “High five.” Rupert grinned. Chris watched as the brother’s arms tensed. Muscle striations appeared through the skin; veins popped out in high relief. Mike’s feet left the ground. Up, up, up. Two feet in the air. He kicked and flayed, as the skin on his face wrinkled, smooshing together. “Guys, this… hurts, aah,” Mike struggled to say through gritted teeth. “What are you doing!” Jeremy shouted. “Holy shit!” Danilo backed away. Niles and Alex stared on with equal parts confusion and revulsion. Mike’s little body shook, struggling to fight against the towers of muscle holding him, but his arms were locked. He could only kick air. He let out grunts of pain, followed by an agonizing scream as the brother’s press harder on his skull, their muscles rippling with power. “This isn’t cool!” Alex shouted. “You’ll kill him!” Jeremy darted up the stairs. Chris reached out, trying to grab him, fearing what would happen, but he was to slow. Jeremy made it to the top of the stairs but took a kick to the torso from Rupert’s massive foot. He flew back and landed in Alex and Chris’ arms. Jeremy panted, struggling to reclaim the air that had been knocked out of him. Then Chris heard it. The crunch. Mikes skull cracked. He watched blood poor from his friend’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Mike went silent, His face, now disfigured, and brain, squished in. “High five!” The brothers exclaimed in unison as Mikes eyes bulged from his head and his skull completely gave way, popping like a stepped-on grape. His skinny body went limp as the brothers were given a blood shower by Mike’s spurting arteries. Their hands were pressed together, up in the air, covered in bone, blood, brains, and Mike’s skin. They lowered their arms and looked down at the five skinny guys, cowering in fear and shock. Chris’ eyes grew wide as saucers. His jaw went slack. No fucking way, he thought as he watched the blood on the brother’s bodies disappear, absorbed into their skin. And the growth…They were growing! Evan and Rupert moaned in pleasure, their bodies shaking, as they swelled, muscles getting more developed and veinier. “Each time we kill, we grow,” Rupert said, as the now more massive brothers stepped slowly towards them. “But only on our birthdays.” Evan said. “That’s the secret of Glencross men.” “But, we like the thrill of the hunt,” Rupert said, with a sadistic smile, “So run! Run for your pathetic little lives. We’re giving you a head start.” He raised his arms and flexed; the muscles of his arms looked like it might burst through his skin. “All this muscle is coming for you.” The group scampered into the maze. Danilo fell to his knees and wretched, but Alex grabbed his arm, dragging him along, leaving a trail of throw-up in his wake. “We should fight them!” Jeremy shouted, and Chris pushed him forward. “Not without a plan,” Chris said. As he moved through the walls of green, Chris heard a faint deep voice call behind them. He couldn’t make out what had been said, or even which brother had said it, but it didn’t matter. His focus was ahead, toward the end of the maze, toward survival.