Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'supernatural'.
Hi, this is the beginning of a story I wrote on another forum and I was going to post here too. The story is still incomplete, suggestions are welcome and as soon as I carry it forward I will post it here. Let me know for the moment what you think! p.s. sorry for my bad english but it's not my native language, i'm actually trying to improve;) ~Supernatural Muscles~ It was yet another trip for Sam and Dean. Just them, the road and the car. But this time the latter seemed to have abandoned them, in fact due to a breakdown they had been forced to stop on the roadside. Sam got out to check but Dean, tired and sweaty, remained seated. He thought of that glass bottle that Castiel had given him, to be used only in times of need. He had always kept it in his pocket ever since, and even though it wasn't a difficult time, he couldn't deny it was boring, so he decided to open that bottle and drink the sweetish contents. Dean felt a tingle go down his throat, travel his body and reach his still soft cock, and then a shiver go up his back. So Dean decided to call his brother. Sam couldn't believe his eyes: his brother's shirt was suddenly tightened, the veins in his neck were exploding and he could see the bulge between his legs. The collar of Dean's shirt was starting to tear, as were his sleeves. His very hard nipples were now evident and a six pack emerged. The veins in his forearms exploded as they grew thicker and more streaked covered in light fuzz, and his biceps continued to grow harder and taller. His legs were growing too, now they had filled his baggy jeans and his streaks were evident. His sexy, hairy calves were slowly emerging and his shoes tightened. Growing up his shirt was getting up revealing the lower part of his abdominals and the pulsating veins that rose from his cock, the tip of which was emerging from the pants that had opened in the meantime. It was weird for Sam, but in that moment he could feel something growing in his underpants as he watched his brother. He sat down on his legs, he felt Dean's cock growing under his ass, while his slammed his hard abs against him. He gave him a kiss and squeezed him tightly, as he felt his back getting wider and wider. They both moaned as their tongues met and the sweet taste of saliva flooded their mouths. Dean flexed his biceps by tearing his sleeves to shreds, leaving his huge manly arms completely uncovered. Sam pulled away from his lips and kissed his thick, veiny neck first, then began worshiping his growing biceps, kissing and licking them as they continued to grow. Meanwhile, the tear of his shirt had brought out his huge hairy pecs, so Sam began to suck and gently bite his nipples, hearing Dean moan. By now his precum was over his panties and wet Sam's ass. Dean's shirt had completely torn on the front of him, revealing his abs, which have now become an 8 pack. Sam leaned down to suck his abs one by one, then lick it and feel with his tongue how hard they were, tracing the path of his veins coming up from his cock. Sam unzipped his pants and let out his hard cock, which began to crawl into the crater between Dean's abdominals lubricated by his precum. By now Sam could no longer resist, so he moved to the other seat making his brother's cock wince. Dean's cock exploded tearing his underpants and what was left of his pants now torn to shreds by his huge muscular thighs. His cock was huge, veiny and wet, with a droplet of precum dripping from the top. It had a base of ash blonde hair like her hair that disappeared as it went up leaving a very shiny trunk with tight skin that revealed pulsating veins and a straight tip, hot and wet. Sam took the tip of that huge cock in his mouth for as long as he could, making Dean moan with pleasure. His mouth couldn't contain all that wonder, so he was forced to alternate between licking the shaft and sucking the tip. Dean couldn't take it anymore, he had to unload his huge testicles full of him. He grabbed Sam by the hair and pushed his head against his cock, almost choking him. His nose banged against his hard abs. Sam sucked all the precum that kept coming out of Dean's cock, making him enjoy like never before. After swallowing Dean's precum, Sam felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt his t-shirt tighten, his veins swell and his muscles tense. His great calloused hands filled with veins that rose along his striated forearms as they thickened, and so did his already large biceps exploding in size. His pecs grew to reveal her hard nipples through the shirt and his 6 pack became a beautiful 8 pack, covered in veins that joined towards his cock. His thighs were about to tear at her jeans and his calves turned like diamonds. His veiny, sweaty feet covered in hair were slowly coming out of his shoes. Sam pulled away from Dean's cock, got out of the car and motioned for his brother to follow him. I got out of the car their mouths joined in a deep kiss that was lost in their moans.
Mikeytron posted a topic in StoriesHey there. Here's a story. It's about muscles and stuff. The nature of desire. The ache of it. But also muscles. I hope it pleases. THE CHAMPION It had been a triumph. He was blowing up Instagram. He was THE cover of every muscle mag that still printed. People would buy copies to commemorate it. The reddit thread already had thousands of comments. ADAM NOVAK: BIGGEST MR. O IN HISTORY He’d only started lifting four years ago, in his early twenties. He only competed for the first time as an amateur two years ago. Got his pro-card last year. Qualified for the O this year. Nine months later, a rookie winner. No one expected it. Lots of people expected him to finish second or third no matter how obvious his dominance, just to make him “work for it” and “earn it” in a year or two. But it became obvious at the show itself: if they’d crowned anyone else, there would have been rioting. He was unlike anyone who had ever stepped on a bodybuilding stage. He was so enormous, it was alarming. Frightening. And he was so young and got there so quickly. The comments online were fast and furious. Things like: “Is there any limit to how big this kid can get?” “What the hell are they feeding him?” “Did a muscle growth experiment escape its lab?” But also things like: “it’s too much.” “Disgusting.” “What happened to old school aesthetics?” “He’s gonna be dead of a heart attack in 18 months.” He put his phone down, caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror across the restaurant where his crew had taken him to celebrate. Fuck, he didn’t look human. Handsome face - he was only 26 - straight nose, big expressive eyes, firm generous lips, Hollywood jawline, thick dark hair kept short, but not too short - just enough to show its curl on his brow. But the rest of him. Fuck. He bulged. He burgeoned. He looked fit to explode, like his skin was barely holding back the giant round forms of his muscles. He took up twice the space of a normal human. Three times the space. He couldn’t move right, he was so huge. His buddy had to help him eat. He knew the stats. Everyone knew the stats. 5’8”. 358 lbs at registration - probably closer to 370 now that he’d been carbed up. 2% bodyfat. 30” arms. 46” thighs. 80” chest. Ramy, Roelly, Hadi, Brandon, Iain, Hunter, all of them were dwarfed by him. His shirt, the only thing he could fit into that came anywhere close to formal wear, was splitting at the seams - literally, it had already torn in two places, small tears, for now. It was custom made. He hadn’t paid for it, the company that made it had volunteered, as long as he did a social media promo. But they made it weeks ago, not expecting him to grow into the show. He had definitely grown into the show. “Where did this kid come from?” Just a little town in southern Ontario, nowhere special. * THREE YEARS EARLIER Adam had to lift pretty late at night because of his job and his classes. He was almost done with the degree. He hoped it’d land him a better job, one that would allow him to lift at a more sensible time. But for now, he showed up at the gym around 11 pm and generally left a little after midnight. It was one of those gyms where members all had a fob to open the door, and there wasn’t always staff on site. This night, the few guys who were there already left not too long after Adam arrived. He had the whole 20,000 square feet to himself. He felt dwarfed by it. He’d been lifting for nine months now, had some newbie gains to show for it, but he still felt out of place. He just looked kind of fit, at best. A little muscle on him but nothing special. He launched into his next set, machine rows, and he really got into the rhythm of it. Slow cadence - he knew not to use momentum, he knew to emphasize time under tension. Pull, squeeze, return, stretch, repeat. His baby lats burned but he kept at it. These are the reps that count, he told himself. This is where the growth is. When he finished, he looked up and saw a bodybuilder sitting on a bench, watching him. Adam was confused - he was certain he’d been alone for twenty minutes or more. He hadn’t heard anyone come in. Had this guy been in the lockers all this time? And he was blatantly staring. Adam took out his phone and toyed with it, hoping the bodybuilder wouldn’t start anything. He didn’t want trouble. He just wanted to finish his workout. If Adam had noticed the time on his phone, or looked up at the clock on the wall, he would have seen that it struck midnight during the set of rows he’d just finished. Adam heard a voice and felt a presence looming. “Hey kid.” His mouth went dry and he looked up. The bodybuilder was huge. Like, pro huge. Some pros went to this gym but Adam rarely saw them because he always came in so late. Adam’s dick began stiffening automatically at the display of bulging pecs, thick veiny arms, quads exploding out of the bottom of tiny shorts hiked high, calves like two footballs clutched by veins like tree roots. He couldn’t help it. The guy was handsome, too. Mediterranean, maybe? Persian? Black hair, dark eyes that were swift and intelligent, perfect tan skin, and the muscles. My god, the muscles. He smelled like testosterone, this close up. “I said hey.” Adam closed his gaping mouth. “Oh uh…. Hey there.” “You wanna get big, huh?” “Um… well…. Yeah.” “Thought so. I could smell it on you from across the room. You’re pretty scrawny but the size of your desire, whoo boy, I’ve rarely seen a desire so huge, not even in the pros.” What was this guy talking about? Adam was worried, this bodybuilder didn’t seem to be in his right mind. He knew a lot of these guys did other drugs, was he hopped up on something? He did have a vaguely coked-up air about him. Adam better be careful not to agitate him. “Oh uh, well, thank you. I’m trying my best.” “I see that. That was a nice set you just did. Good intention. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to get everything you want, and more.” “.... haha, well, I hope you’re right. I definitely want to get huge.” Adam gave his best fake laugh. “You better start your next set. You’re on 90 second rests and it’s been more than 100.” “How…?” “I said start your next set.” His voice was quiet, commanding. Adam gulped, turned his attention to the machine, gripped the handles firmly, and started rowing. Like before he fell into a kind of rhythm, but this time it was deeper. He kept pulling and pulling and pulling. His lats felt like they would burst. But he was merciless. His form remained smooth, controlled. His tempo, slow. He was crying, it hurt so bad. Literal tears mixing with the sweat running down his face. He kept rowing. It burned so bad, worse than anything he’d ever felt. When Adam finally stopped, he released the handles with a sob and let his arms fall to his sides. There was no way to hold them that didn’t make his throbbing lats feel worse. He groaned in helpless agony and looked around for the mysterious bodybuilder who had been talking to him. There was no one else in the gym. Even though he’d been in his own world during that set, that agonizing endless set…. Adam would have noticed the muscle man leaving, right? * A YEAR LATER “Adam, you should totally compete!” “Oh, I don’t know...” Adam shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to acknowledge that he had been considering that very thing himself lately. “I’m serious, man, you’d fit right in on an amateur stage, classic, maybe even cross over and do open as well.” Adam had poured himself into the gym after graduation. He found a job but his focus really wasn’t there - he was competent, but his managers always said he could be doing more, and as the months went by and his muscles continued to expand, they grew uncomfortable with his physical presence. He was handsome, muscular, confident, but there was something off about him, something they couldn’t put into words. The gym was his life. His passion. It was almost like the first nine months he’d spent lifting were a kind of false start - what he thought of as newbie gains were quickly dwarfed by his second year of progress. His friends were right - not only would he not look out of place on an amateur stage, he’d stand a good chance of winning the whole thing. So that’s what he did. The experience of contest prep was hyped up to be a gruelling gauntlet to him, but somehow he never found it that way. He got leaner, his skin thinned, his muscles popped, but he never felt hungry, he never felt exhausted. At first he was concerned because the scale wasn’t going down the way it should - but the mirror told a different tale. “I guess you’re growing into your show. Lucky fucker.” The classic weight limit for someone 5’8” was 182 lbs. The plan for him to do both classic and open was scrapped as his weight never dipped below 185, and indeed crept into the 190s by the time show day arrived. He registered as a light heavyweight. He wore turquoise posers. He blew everyone away. He won his class. He won the overall. He qualified for nationals. His friends were beyond hyped at the after-party. “You’ve gotta do it, man! Do nationals! You’re built for this!” He believed it. He’d never felt happier in his life. That night, back at the hotel, after everyone had left, he stepped into another shower to try and get more of the fake tan off. He knew he’d be shedding it for days to come even after doing his best to scrub it away. He enjoyed the way the water cascaded down his rock hard musculature. His glutes like twin boulders. His pecs like two shields of stone. The veins on his biceps and forearms like veins in marble. His cock throbbed, and he indulged himself; it only took a half dozen strokes before he blew a load all over the hotel shower wall, the hot water turning his cum all stringy. He turned off the shower, enjoying the warm humid air. Slowly he toweled off and stepped back into the room, naked, his skin raw and scrubbed fresh. He stopped in his tracks. Someone was in the room. It was the bodybuilder from the gym. That bodybuilder. “Adam,” he said, smiling. He was sitting in the armchair by the window, just as massive as the first time Adam saw him. Stringer tanktop covering less than a quarter of his tanned, bulging, super heavyweight torso. Dark nips angling downward from the sheer size of his pecs. His lips quirked into a smile. “You’re looking well.” “What the fuck are you doing in my room,” Adam said, the timid pipsqueak from a year ago nowhere to be seen. “Settle down. Relax. And you’re welcome, by the way.” “I’ll settle down when I’m good and ready. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing here?” “You’ll figure out who I am in time. And I’m here to congratulate you. And deliver the remainder of your prize.” Adam’s eyes flickered to the gimmicky sword he’d been awarded for winning the overall. Amateur shows don’t have cash prizes. What could this guy mean? “What are you, a rep for a supplement company or something?” The bodybuilder’s lips quirked as he held in a genuine laugh. “That’s a new one. No, as I said, you’ll figure out my identity in time. Don’t you remember our first meeting?” “I… I do,” Adam said reluctantly. “Well, I simply asked if you wanted to get huge, and you said you did. Your need blazed like a bonfire on a dark night, you know. Obvious. It practically begged for me to intervene on your behalf. But I do need permission, you know. So I asked. You wanna get huge? And you said you do. So….” the man gestured elegantly, muscles shifting and flexing as he did. “Here we are.” “I don’t understand.” “You will.” And with that, Adam woke up. His head hurt. His mouth was dry. His slow sleeping pulse suddenly doubled as he remembered - the weird bodybuilder! In his room! Talking some kind of crazy talk! Adam leapt to his feet and almost fell to the ground. His body wasn’t like it had been the day before. He was… larger. A lot larger. The same height, 5’8”. The same bones. But his muscles had inflated. At least 25 lbs. He saw himself in the mirror above the TV, his handsome face freaked out, terrified, his chest and ab-quilted stomach heaving with heavy breaths. What the fuck. * SIX MONTHS LATER His work was definitely going to find some excuse to fire him in the weeks ahead, he could tell. When he walked - or, waddled - into a meeting room, their faces screwed up like he had a stink about him. He was outgrowing his work clothes and he didn’t want to invest in new ones if they were just going to fire him anyway. But he had to get money from somewhere. OnlyFans was a surprising help for his finances. He didn’t even have to have sex - just posing, flexing, or even doing normal things like shaving, or preparing food with no shirt on. Sometimes he got his dick out but a lot of the times he didn’t even do that. And people in the thousands paid to watch him, this young guy, just turning 24, handsome enough to be a movie star, with his jaw dropping muscles. The day he was finally let go, for reasons he could probably challenge successfully except he didn’t want to, he celebrated with an OnlyFans post. “Watch me flex out of my work clothes.” All his office attire, going back to when he had been a 150 lbs nobody. One by one he squeezed his muscular body into them and then flexed hard, forcing seams to split, tearing fabric apart. It was like ripping apart his old identity. The old Adam. Adam wasn’t much for social media but he couldn’t keep his physique under wraps any longer. Instagram was a must. He hated it, but the sponsorships he’d picked up since his big win required him to make posts, and the larger his following the more likely they’d be to renew contracts. He had no paycheque anymore so he did his best to lean into it. As Nationals drew near the buzz around him was unmistakable. Instagram is full of bodybuilders who seem like they’re going to blow the competition away on show day, only to finish in the middle of the pack - but everyone was convinced that, this time, for Adam, it would be different. He was the heavy favourite among the online crowd. He’d registered at 194 lbs at his first show. What no one knew was the very next day, after the visitation from the weird bodybuilder in his hotel room, he’d weighed in at 221 lbs. The growth kept coming during the three months of bulking he’d planned before beginning his cut for the Nationals. 250 lbs is a lot on someone who’s only 5’8”, but that’s where he landed before the cut. That’s when he got fired from his job. They just couldn’t handle someone that massive, such a meathead in a professional environment. No one who’s of sound mind would ever do something like that to their bodies. Obvious steroid abuse. Ticking time bomb of roid rage. No one felt comfortable in the office with him. Fuck them anyway. He was making good money from sponsorships and OnlyFans, and he’d be getting his pro card soon. His cut for his second-ever contest began, and just like the first one, the scale was stubborn. It dipped down as low as 243, but it stayed there for a while, and then began creeping up. He was vicious about his diet and cardio. He didn’t cheat at all. But he was growing into his show again. With two weeks to go, he was back at 250 lbs, but so much leaner and sharper than he’d been just a couple months previous. The internet was losing their mind. This wasn’t just a kid who deserved a pro card. Adam was rapidly growing an Olympia-contender physique, right before everyone’s eyes, and doing it at an accelerated pace that beggared belief. He flew out for the show a week early, set up shop in an Airbnb, did his final workouts and a photoshoot at a local gym, went home and ate his prepared meals, updated his instagram and his OnlyFans, played video games, and then slept. Day after day. He waddled into registration exactly 59 lbs heavier than he’d been for his first show. 253 lbs. The guy recording the weights couldn’t restrain himself. “Damn, son.” He looked Adam up and down. “That is a HELL of a lot of mass to be carrying on a 5’8” frame.” “Thanks man,” Adam said nonchalantly, trying not to become overly emotional. He kept a tight rein on things until after the show was over. He knew he was a favourite to win. He knew that pro card was his. But he had to pretend he didn’t know, until it had actually happened. Super Heavyweight. Called to the centre of the lineup within seconds of getting on stage. Stayed there the whole time. Nailed every pose. Adam’s physique was shocking. The official photographer’s camera was going off like a machine gun. He knew this was something special, that pictures of Adam from this show would be well known twenty-five years from now. These pictures he was taking, as this freak of musculature moved gracefully from pose to pose to pose, would be joining the echelons of legendary physique pictorial. Cutler’s quad stomp. Arnold on the beach. And Adam winning his pro card, absolutely mopping the floor with the competition. The after party was glorious. Everyone wanted to suck his dick, metaphorically and, eventually, literally. He should have been exhausted but he felt elated. He felt high, like he was on a drug. He kept pumping his cock into warm willing holes in the hotel room, a frenzy of muscle and lust and dominance. He was the fucking champ. He was the newest IFBB pro. He was only 25 years old. He was hot shit, and he had his whole future ahead of him. He didn’t remember falling asleep. When he woke up it was still dark outside. The room was gloomy, dim. He felt hungover. His balls ached. How many times had he cum last night? Five? Six? More? He groaned and rolled over, intending to lumber into the bathroom for some water - he could drink all he liked now, after all. He froze mid-roll. There was someone else in bed with him. A big lumpy shape, half-seen in the darkness. Denting the mattress. Not a surprise - hadn’t he hosted a victory orgy? But the room was dark, no one else was here, and although there’d been plenty of muscular men attached to his dick last night, this one was bigger than any of them. About the same size as me, Adam thought. The other man blinked awake and smiled prettily. His massive pecs mounded up under his chin as he propped himself up on one arm and leaned toward Adam. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, showing perfect white teeth that almost glowed in the gloom. “Wh-... what the fuck,” Adam stammered. “Don’t be so shocked. You really ought to learn to expect me by now.” He reached a hand out and stroked Adam’s muscular arm, then his face. Adam didn’t draw away, for some reason. He felt hypnotized by the mysterious bodybuilder. He was paralyzed yet untroubled by this fact. “You’ve done so well. Look at the size of you. You’re really huge now, aren’t you?” “Yeah I’m… I’m pretty huge...” Adam felt himself speak, but it was like someone else was speaking. “I’m contractually obligated to give you an off-ramp here, but fair warning. It’s your last chance to back out.” “Huh?” The bodybuilder smirked. “It’s like their brains shrivel up, I swear.” He resumed stroking Adam’s handsome face, toying with his short curly hair. “I’ll make it simple for you, big guy. You can stabilize around this size. You’ll spend your off-season in the 270s, you’ll compete in the 250’s, you’ll probably have quite the career. I can’t promise what kind of success, because I won’t be involved any longer. In fact, tonight will be the last time you see me. Pity, that. If you take this option, I mean.” Adam whimpered. His cock was throbbing, achingly hard, like a steel beam in the sun, like he hadn’t cum for a month. “The other option is, you stay on this ride and we see just how huge ‘huge’ really is.” Adam felt his mouth open and close. “Guh….” The bodybuilder stroked his face again. “Such a pretty man, really, even without the muscles. So what do you say, kid. Do you want to get even huger?” “Fuck, yes, please, anything, I want to be a monster, I want to be the biggest bodybuilder ever, I never want to stop growing, I wanna grow til I split my skin” Adam felt the words come tumbling out, like a dam inside him had burst. The bodybuilder chuckled, his pecs flexing and dancing. “That’s what I hoped I’d hear. You know that bonfire of desire I said you had inside you? It’s burning brighter than ever, it’s never dimmed. It rages, I can sense it across the eons. I’ll see you next time, handsome.” Then he leaned in and kissed Adam. It was the most powerful kiss Adam had ever experienced. He felt his soul melting. Untouched, his cock began to twitch and dance and spurt cum like a broken sprinkler. Adam moaned loudly, reached out to pull the sexy bodybuilder in closer, and his hands passed through thin air. The man was gone. Adam slumped back onto the mattress, stared at the ceiling for a second. Then, realizing just how disgusting and stinky his mouth must have been during that kiss, that best-ever kiss with that god of a man, rolled over and went to the bathroom for a glass of water and to clean himself up. * Adam shouldn’t have been shocked when he woke up in his hotel room the morning after his show. It had happened once already. And yet… he somehow hadn’t expected it. He was bigger. A lot bigger. Like 40 lbs bigger. 253 lbs is a lot on a 5’8” frame, like the man at check-in said. 290-something, in contest shape? Practically unheard of. That’s beyond Roelly Winklaar size. That’s beyond Big Ramy size. That’s already in a category of its own. He threw himself into the off-season with a vengeance. The mass came, like his body knew no limit. Every set, his freakish muscles filled with so much lactic acid, his eyes would tear up, he would be gasping and moaning, unable to ease the pain. And then his timer would beep and he’d launch into another set, ignoring the throbbing pain, pumping himself ever huger. He grew. And grew. And grew. A member of the 300 lbs club now, rapidly filling out. His shoulders mound up alongside his head, bigger than his skull. His pecs hit his chin when he looks down at them. His walk now an extreme waddle. Every eye staring at him when he goes out in public. Blocking a sidewalk, blocking an aisle at the grocery store. People watch him, mouths agape. Children ask questions. Mommy, what’s wrong with that man? His first pro show, an Olympia qualifier. The discourse went from “how well will he do” to “is he a contender to win it” to “how well is he going to do at the Olympia after he wins this?” He tried to ignore the headlines in the bodybuilding press. ADAM NOVAK PREPARES FOR HIS FIRST PRO SHOW, PROMPTING THE QUESTION: HOW BIG IS TOO BIG A NEW ERA OF MASS MONSTERS OR A ONE-OFF FREAK? ADAM NOVAK He started his prep at 312 lbs. Just like before, the scale was stubborn. It dipped down slowly, stalled, and then began climbing again as the show neared. Adam’s training sessions were almost like trances, now. He’d emerge from the altered space occasionally, and see the pumped, fit to burst muscle freak, face anguished from the lactic acid burn, tortured body slick with sweat and tears, XXXXXL tank top about to explode, veins the size of pencils, lungs heaving for oxygen. He was so massive he could barely get enough air in to fuel himself. He was always winded. His feet hurt from carrying this much weight. His gut hurt from eating so much food, every single day. Even his contest prep diet was enough for a family. He got leaner, and leaner, and leaner. Scarily lean. It was the most shredded he’d ever been. He weighed in at 317 lbs the day before the show. “Jesus,” the guy taking the measurements muttered. “Holy fuck.” Adam’s body seemed impossible, there was no way a human being could carry this much meat. The few people who knew him before, when he was just a normal dude, who were still in touch with him all sent him texts and DMs, worried about his health. It’s too much, Adam. Your body can’t take this for long. Forums and reddit threads were full of predictions of his doom. He must be on grams a week. Getting this huge this fast - kids today are too impatient. He’s going to pay the price for it. The show was a coronation. He was the heaviest guy there. He was the leanest guy there. His proportions were perfect, if of a magnitude unheard of. When he hit a most muscular, the audience actually gasped. The Olympia qualification was his. The celebration was subdued, though. Not an orgy like last time. He didn’t even want to go to a restaurant. He was tired of how people in public gawped at him. He just wanted to chill in the hotel room, smoke a joint, order some pizza, watch some stupid videos on youtube. So, that’s what he and his crew did. The champ gets what he wants. As he said goodbye to the last of his crew, he knew what to expect. He had been expecting this all along. The memory of the kiss in the hotel bed last time stayed with him. It was seared into his soul, a tender spot he couldn’t stop poking at. It was the best kiss he’d ever had. It had been far more than a kiss. “You can come out now, if you’re here,” Adam said to the empty room. “You’re learning,” the bodybuilder said as he stepped out of the dark bathroom. “I’m not that stupid. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life, that’s all. You can’t expect people to catch on that fast.” “Can’t I? You lot used to be so much more reasonable before your faith in science overtook the evidence of your senses,” the bodybuilder smirked. “Although I will admit, your science has wrought many wondrous things.” He flexed, then, admiring himself. He’s smaller than me, Adam realized. A lot smaller. “Everyone is smaller than you now, Adam,” the bodybuilder said, answering Adam’s thoughts. “A very small number of them are close, but you’re top of the heap. You’re it. The biggest bodybuilder in the world, in human history. How’s it feel?” “It’s exhausting.” The bodybuilder was silent, and Adam felt compelled to continue. “I can’t even tie my own shoes. I have to turn sideways to get through some doors. Everyone stares at me. I’m always out of breath and my feet hurt. Nothing fits. When I’m not lifting I’m eating, and when I’m not eating I’m sleeping. I have to wear a machine when I sleep so I don’t suffocate on my own meat.” The bodybuilder stared at him, still silent. Was that the tiniest shimmer of pity in his dark, expressive eyes? Finally the bodybuilder spoke. “I told you last time, it was your last chance to back out. There is no escape, now.” Adam was quiet. “I know.” The bodybuilder narrowed his eyes. “That bonfire of need in you….” “Yes?” “It’s still there, Adam. It hasn’t dimmed, at all.” Adam hung his head, his chin in the cleft between his pecs, his arms unable to rest at his sides because his lats were in the way. His legs forced apart by the sheer volume of his quads. “.... yeah.” “You want to get even bigger, don’t you, Adam?” Adam felt his breath shaking and catching. He was trembling. His body couldn’t take this. It was too much. It was way too much. He wouldn’t last another year if he kept growing. This has to end. It has to end now. It… “.... yeah.” Adam heard the sound of a wretched sob from somewhere in the room, the sound of a broken soul. The bodybuilder stepped closer. He reached an elegant finger under Adam’s chin, having to work it into the canyon between his pecs to do so. He lifted Adam’s face. “Son of the earth, the need in you is…. exquisite. It is beautiful. You have the purest need of any mortal I’ve seen, and I have been here for…. For far longer than you can know, my treasure.” Adam felt a tear trickling down his face as the fallen angel’s true form flickered through his disguise. The beauty he glimpsed was painful to behold. “I should not do this. I am here to punish the sin of greed. I don’t know what they’ll do to me. This might be my unmaking. But you, Adam… your greed is no sin. It is purified, somehow. The purest essence of want. Son of the earth, I’ll give you what you want, but it won’t hurt you any more. It won’t sap your life any more. Your skin won’t rip and tear. Your organs won’t fail. Your heart won’t break. You’ll keep growing, son of the earth, and I’ll protect you, damn the cost.” A second tear trickled down Adam’s face as his eyes were locked with the demon’s. The world was shrinking, it was only their two bodies, not even the room around them. The point of contact where they touched was all of reality. Adam’s monstrously overgrown form, obscene and impractical mass, and the demon’s human guise, the pure essence of virile muscular masculinity. The demon leaned in and kissed Adam again. It was like in the hotel bed. The ancient sign of a sealed covenant. The terms of their arrangement had been altered; a new contract was signed. Then, smiling, the demon took Adam by the hand and led him to the hotel room bed. His hands slowly running over the human’s unheard of musculature. The angry red stretch marks where his skin had begun to fail. The crevices where two muscles had run out of room and were now vying for territory. Adam’s ass, the biggest most muscular pair of glutes on planet earth, slowly being prised apart by the demon’s thick foot-long cock, radiating heat, slick, lubricating as it went. He was as good as his word - Adam would not come to harm as long as he was under the demon’s power. Adam felt drugged. He felt cosmic. His whole body was a sexual organ and the demon was touching every inch of it. Their hot breath in unison, mortal and immortal. The demon was inside him, deep inside him, pulsing, filling him with radiant seed, more and more of it. They couldn’t keep their mouths off each other, tongues darting, lips grasping. They wanted to devour each other and keep each other whole. When Adam woke up the next morning, he was alone. He felt elevated; he felt empty. He was 340 lbs. * NINE MONTHS LATER The entire Olympia weekend was a media spectacle. Adam was the biggest name in bodybuilding, not just literally but metaphorically. He’d just been a normal young man three years ago, when a demon had visited his gym at midnight and offered him a deal. Not that Adam understood that it was a deal, back then. But now, after having gained more than 200 pounds of raw beef with no end in sight, he knew it very well. Everyone wanted to know Adam Novak’s training secrets. Everyone wanted to know who his coach was. Everyone wanted to know what next gen roids he had to be taking. They tried to make the press conference about more than him. Soft-ball questions lobbed at the other competitors. They tried to make it seem like a true contest, like anyone else had a shot. Even though Adam clearly dwarfed everyone at the table, hunched over his microphone like a literal mountain of meat, the largest official Olympia track suit looking comically tight, painted on. Several months ago he was already the biggest bodybuilder in history. And he had grown since then, grown a lot. He registered at 358 lbs, still at 5’8”. The video clips of it happening had gone viral. He needed help to get dressed and undressed. He got so pumped backstage that he needed someone to feed him the endless amounts of carbs that his huge body required in the hours before the show - he could no longer touch his own face, or even reach his mouth with a fork. He posed to Sympathy for the Devil that night, the crowd losing its mind. They knew they were witnessing history. Adam felt kind of cheesy. The song choice seemed too on the nose. Adam hoped he was watching. Adam hoped he liked the tip of the hat. Adam wanted to see him grin at the little joke. Adam longed to see him again. What had he said? He might get in trouble? “This could be my undoing?” Something like that. He was supposed to punish Adam, but he had decided not to. He had decided to give Adam everything he wanted and to protect him from the negative downsides. Would he be waiting for Adam at the hotel tonight? Would they make love again, like they had last time? Adam couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized, in the van back to the hotel, his gargantuan freakshow body taking up the entire back row, that he was in love. He was in love with a demon, his very soul was magnetized to him, and he didn’t know if he’d ever see him again. His heart was pounding as he waddled down the hotel corridor, so overgrown he almost brushed the walls with his beachball delts. It wasn’t the heart attack that internet trolls kept saying would claim him any day, as he grew and grew and grew beyond all reason. His heart was pounding because he didn’t know what was waiting for him. If he didn’t show up…. Adam opened the door. The room was dark. He hit the lightswitch and heard his own tight voice, aching with hope. Aching with need. A simple word, wanting an answer. “Hello?”
Hello yall! First time I post a story here I believe! For Halloween, this year, I've been working on making a transformation/growth-mystery story (based on the murder-mystery genre) and thought I could post it here if some of yall are into that! This series will have show multiple takes on masculinization, mostly about making huge, beefy and muscled bearish guys. If that's your thing and you like some story plot around the meat, here's something for you! I think I will add the next chapters on this thread, so you won't have to look around the forums for the previous instalment if needed. Without further ado, here's the prologue to the story! ***Disclaimer: the prologue does not contain sex scenes or physical changes yet, but serves as an introduction to the ten characters and to set the story context. Synopsis: Ten young, homophobic adults gather for Halloween. At 10 PM, lights shut off, phones fry up, game starts and none can leave. What’s more, it seems there is one imposter among them. Can they make it out until morning? What is this “game” all about anyway? ~ One of Us ~ Prologue ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:00 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The full moon forecasted on Halloween, a Saturday, promised a memorable night… if it was not for the whole pandemic thing. Halloween couldn’t just be cancelled. There could have been a tornado or an earthquake and the festivities would have still happened. Who cared for a stupid invisible virus! It was a mild evening by the Wrights’ house on the outskirts of Austin Town. Dimitri, a tall twenty-year-old who lifted weights daily had invited a couple of buddies for Halloween. He didn’t care for the pandemic and had the mansion by himself since his parents were out of town — he forgot exactly where. But all he cared for, in the moment, was throwing the party with his friends. He put on a cowboy hat, a checkered vest and a pair of faded jeans to look the part. The only boots he found around his home were his father’s 13s, which felt tight on the sides for his big boy ones. After all, he was two inches taller than his six-foot dad. The mansion hall was grandiose, looking as if it came from a movie or catalogue. A big staircase sculpted into rich oak wood crept the left wall of the hall and led to the upper rooms. On the right wall, a more discreet yet still impressive staircase led down to the basement, where the theatre room and the home bar would receive the guests later during the night. Next to the last staircase, wide double doors opened on a spacious living room. A fireplace took place on the left wall, right next to a sturdy door, and under a big plasma TV. Two long couches surrounded a glass table at the centre of the room, onto which half a dozen big bowls were filled with candies and chips. Against the farther wall, a tennis table had been set up by the garage door, onto which red plastic cups had been piled. Right next to the table, Dimitri’s best friend Asher was sitting on a stool with a beer can in hand. The 5′9″ man did not wait for other guests to show up before cracking up a beer and taking a handful of chips. He was dressed up in camo clothes and a war helmet — which consisted of a grotesquely painted bicycle helmet. The man scrolled through the song playlist in his phone, plugged into the speakers, hanging in the high corners of the room. He had created a selection of spooky and Halloween-themed song to play, but had somehow managed to either lose or erase it. To his feet under the table, Dimitri had a cooler which contained the few six-packs of beers he’s brought along for the night — probably the only six-pack thing about the bulky guy. Whereas Asher did not have abdominals to show, the bearded redhead had his own share of strength. Asher was telling his friend the latest conquest he’s had when a loud booming car entered the driveway. The two men looked through the wide windows of the living room, noticing how more of the guests arrived. Two more men and their girlfriends walked out of the car. The two girls were the first to get out, a short yet curvy dirty blond and a tall svelte latina with jet black hair. A short man on the passenger side joined the girl of similar height while the driver, a giant although quite lanky young man, turned the ignition off and joined with the crew. “Yo! Is that the double Js!” Asher called out through the window with a tipsy laugh, before following the host back in the hall to greet the guests. “In the flesh and the hair!” The taller man — Sebastian Joseph — replied with a wide grin over his stubbly face, ruffling his head full of shaggy chestnut hair for effect. The other shorter guy — Theodore James — walked with a crate full of beers, letting out an enthusiastic “got the booze” to the host. Albeit not dressed in their costumes yet, the quartet had a few bags with them, giving the impression they would change once inside. “Need help with something, boys?” The raven-haired girl asked with a giggle. “I do, Mathy, but I doubt your ‘tall-boi’ here would agree to share ya with me.” Asher chuckled before receiving a playful blow from giga-Seb on the shoulder. The girls jiggled between each other at the display of rough masculinity between the guys. Theo made himself silent as he brought the beer and his backpack inside. “Perhaps Theo might be more compliant on the deal with Jenny, though.” The womanizer grinned as he sized up the short blond. “Don’t you dare touching my girl, bro!” Theodore shouted from the inside. “Bro, just keep your dick in your pants.” Dimitri slapped his best friend teasingly on the back as he was taking a sip of beer, resulting in him spitting some down. “Dude, bro! Don’t do that! You can’t waste that shit!” Asher dramatized as booze also leaked into his beard and camo vest. In the middle of laughs, the short girl asked if there was a room where they could get changed. “Yeah, there’s a bathroom in the corridor behind the stairs.” Dimitri pointed at the staircase. “First door to your left, girls.” “Need some assistance, girls?” Asher joked again. “We’ll be fine, dickhead.” Jenny rolled her eyes, although still amused. “Come on, Mathilda.” “You’ll see, boys. Once we’ll be out, you’ll be the ones asking for our help!” The latina giggled, winking at them before following her bossy little friend. “I’ll be waiting for that!” Asher exclaimed, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. “Dude, have you gotten laid recently?” Sebastian elbowed the bulky womanizer. “I did, but that pandemic thing right now is really killing my strike. Can’t believe there’s so many scared pussies around. It’s terrifying for the male race, dude.” “Unless you’re a fag, bro!” Sebastian chuckled. “Aww, fuck off, dude!” Asher smirked before finishing his beer. “Hmm… let me get myself another one. Or just come in and get one yourself.” The three guys went into the living room, where Theodore was missing. “Theo? Buddy? Where’re you at?” Dimitri called the little guy. “I think he went for the kitchen.” Sebastian said, pulling a furry toque from the bag in his hands. “Alright, I’m gonna check on him if he needs anything.” Dimitri left his two friends going in the living room and went for the double doors leading to the left of the hall. He entered a large dining room with a long table that could welcome a dozen people to eat. He remembered how his mother, a judge in the federal court, used to make parties with her colleagues years ago. The expanse of the furniture in the room proved to be useful when his brother or himself invited friends over. The host walked past a second fireplace in the dining room until he reached a broad door leading into the kitchen. Right by the counter, Theodore was looking as if he was texting someone. “Hey, dude, what are you doing?” Theo startled at the question, not realizing someone had walked in on him. He turned around with a blush on his face and a nervous laugh. “Hey! I… didn’t hear you walking in.” “Bro… I know this face! Who were you talking to?” Dimitri asked with a coy grin, lowering his voice. “No one!” Theo brushed off, storing his phone back into his pocket and proceeding to store some food and booze in the fridge for later tonight. “Your call, dude!” Dimitri lifted his hands in acceptance. “C’mon and get your ass in the room with the boys! Let’s get this party going!” Right on cue, Asher’s spooky music started blowing through the speakers of the living room. As they joined Asher and Seb, the two men were just starting a beer pong game. Seb had put on the toque on his head and a plaid jacket on top of his now naked chest. The lanky giant had a few sparse chest hair and a meagre treasure trail, but little to no definition whatsoever. To complement the look, he even had an axe which he let by the couch for the moment. “Hope you don’t mind the view, guys!” Sebastian mocked by faking a striptease. “You’re such a dork, Seb!” Theo guffawed at the ridicule of his friend. “Hey, not my fault if no one can resist me! Remember that gay dude in High School, guys?” “That was fucking hilarious!” The short guy laughed at the memory. “SUP, BITCHES!” A voice echoed from the hall. The crew turned around and greeted with enthusiasm the arrival of a new party member. Already wearing his costume, Wesley entered the place like he owned it. The man was wearing old ratty and torn clothes as well as a puffy hat. His face looked even paler than usual and large dark circles surrounded his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in ages. “What are you dressed as, my old Wes?” Sebastian asked with a toothy grin, welcoming him with an arm around the shoulders. “A tramp?” “Funny one, Seb! Nah, I’m more like an undead or zombie kinda thing. Or a Frankenstein, whatever.” “Actually, Frankenstein is the scientist and not the monster.” Theodore intervened. “I doubt you meant the—…” “Ahh shut up, nerd. You know who I’m talkin’ about.” Wes spited in annoyance. “Hey, play cool, guys.” Dimitri chuckled. “Say, how about we play some beer pong?” “Well, I think I’m gonna take a shit while you’re debating what you’re gonna do.” Asher said. “That’s fucking nasty, dude!” Seb grimaced and chuckled at the same time. “Guess you’ll have to take the downstairs one, dude. The bitches are taking their sweet fucking time here.” Dimitri said, just loud enough so that the girls in question could hear his comment. “Tie a knot with your dicks if you can’t wait, fuckers!” They heard back from the bathroom, probably from Jennifer. “Are we having some single ladies tonight?” Wes asked with a devious grin plastered on his face, idly rubbing his crotch. “Apparently not, bro.” Asher sympathized with a shoulder pat as he walked past him. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:30 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It was pretty annoying how, despite the good insulation of the house, Larry could still hear the noise of his big brother’s party upstairs. With the pandemic stuff going on, he would have thought he could just spend a nice calming night playing videogames just as he always does. Oh well. The six-foot eighteen years old stretched into his gaming chair, dropping his Xbox controller on his lap. While he used to be a regular gym goer, the pandemic had benefited him and his brother with buying gym equipment. Well, it was their parents who actually paid, but that was beside the point. Between gaming and working out, Larry had grown a more athletic shape without even needing to leave the house. Sure, he wanted to eventually achieve thick proportions like Dimitri, who could almost pass for a bodybuilder now, but he believed he’d get there sooner or later. “Yo! Lar!” A voice boomed into the room as the door barged opened. The young man jumped with surprise at the sudden outburst. He turned around, mostly nude except from an old stained pair of boxer shorts covering his junk. There, in the entrance, stood Asher, booze in hand, laughing. “Phew! Glad I didn’t barge into you whacking off again!” The trickster exclaimed. “Get the fuck out!” Larry snapped, beet red. Larry grabbed onto the first object he didn’t value much — an empty beer can — and threw it at his brother’s friend, who closed the door just in time. The gamer heard the man step away, still laughing. His heartbeat was still high, but Larry was calming down. He turned back to his station and tried changing games, only to remember his account had been suspended from Fortdey. “Guess I’ll just play some Olah Reach.” The teen shrugged, scratching at the rough stubble he had not shaved in days. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 7:45 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “How do I look?” Mathilda asked to her friend as she applied the makeup. “You’re looking like a queen.” Jennifer complimented, finally stepping and showing her the result. The Latina beamed with joy at her display in the mirror. She looked just like Cleopatra. As for her shorter pal, she had disguised herself with a little white dress and brought her hair into a green flowery bulb on top of her head. Pink heels, transparent wings and a rooty wand complemented her appearance as a forest fairy. “Ready to show off to the boys?” Jennifer enticed. “You bet your ass, girl!” “Let’s get a round of salute!” “Heeeere we coooome!” Mathilda announced to the guys as they walked out into the lobby. Crossing the hall into the living room, the chicks were greeted with a series of wolf whistles and acclamations. Since the moment they entered the bathroom, a few more guests had joined the party. In addition to Wes, two more men had arrived. One of them was Braxton, an ex-neighbour of Dimitri, who moved before High School. Tall and wide-shouldered, he was almost matching Dimitri’s body builder size at about 250 pounds. Member of the football team back then, and again in college, Braxton had decided against all originality to disguise himself as a footballer for Halloween. “Talk about original, huh, Brax?” Jennifer snarked. “That’s because you’ve not seen anything yet, little girl.” He chuckled, removing his helmet. Right under the headwear, the sportsman had apparently covered his face in makeup to look like some werewolf. He had even added pointy ears and fake fangs to complement the disguise. “Wow! I must say I’m surprised you actually put some effort in your costume.” Mathilda nodded. “Hmm, yeah, I agree.” Her friend approved. “Now, does any of you wants to play with the big wolf on campus? Grrrr!” The jock joked as he acted the part. “Only if you want me to turn you into a cute puppy!” Jennifer said with a smile, raising her wand to playfully poke the footballer’s nose. “Oh! Turn him into a cat! It would look great with my costume!” The Cleopatra giggled along. “You girls are helpless!” The last guest spoke, disguised as Captain America. With his blond hair and chiselled jaw, devoid of any, the man actually looked like the Steve Rogers from the Marvel comics. Albeit a little shorter than the canon superhero, the second jock was still taller than average at 5′11″ and he depicted a stature that testified countless hours dedicated to the gym. “Victor! It’s been so long since I last saw you!” The short fairy exclaimed. “Victor?! Damn, dude, what are you on?! Tell me that’s part of the costume!” Mathilda gasped, putting a hand on her chest as she observed the massive bulk threatening the sleeves to tear. “That’s all me, ladies!” Victor laughed with his loud rich voice, flexing a bicep for evidence. The girls could almost hear in their head the seams about to rip as he tensed the enormous arm, unfortunately inaudible through the booming music. “I’ve been hitting the gym pretty hard, you see, babes?” “You can show off all you want, bro, but you ain’t got nothing on these guns!” Braxton chimed in, pushing his longtime friend aside to flex. “At least I’ve still got abs, bro!” Victor scoffed at him by shaking the soft midsection. “Put your faggy hands away, bro! It’s padding for the field!” “Sure, bro. Sure. Just be careful so that I don’t mistake you for a bear next time we go hunting, bro!” The two teasing jocks gave each other a few hits before erupting with laughter. However, when they turned around to see the girls, they had since long left them to their silly talk. They had joined in with Dimitri to play beer pong — their boyfriends nowhere to be found. The two meatheads exchanged a wolfish grin and went after the two women, intent on playing a few drinking ones with them. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 9:15 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Settled in the study, Sebastian and Wesley had been smoking and relaxing aside from the main events of the party, taking some time to catch up. Ever since Wesley has moved district with his parents as a teen, the two of them hadn’t seen each other as much as they used to in elementary school. They ended growing up in quite different neighbours. While Sebastian had lived in a middle-class environment, Wesley had been subjected to a rather lower one. Sebastian never really knew why Wes’s folks relocated there, but suspected they might have struggled financially. The roughness of these new surroundings perhaps contributed to Wes becoming reckless and carefree in the last couple weeks, such as starting taking and exchanging drugs and booze. Nonetheless, he was still Sebastian’s old friend and the tall lad just simply couldn’t forget the strong bond they’ve built up many years ago. The two men were chilling peacefully when the door to the study opened by Theodore, dressed as a wizard with a blue robe and hat. The short pal had put on a ridiculous fake white beard, but had it off in his hands, the material itching him after a while. Even if he wasn’t fond of having his glasses daily — usually opting for contacts — Theo had decided to put on the nerdy eyewear his parents shamefully bought him a couple months ago, before the pandemic happened. “There you are, guys!” Theo blurted out. “We were looking for you everywhere! Well, technically, I was the one who… whatever. Anyway, what are you doing here?” “Whether you in or out, just close the damn door!” Wes grumbled. Theo blushed red and shut it after stepping inside. Already, the strong aroma of weed hit his nose. The smell didn’t disgust him, but he couldn’t help being rational about it. “Guys, you know that thing fries your brain cells, right?” “Doesn’t take any to say you’re an annoying little twat.” The drug addict chimed. “Hey, hey…” Seb spoke before the tension arose — he pulled the handmade fag from his mouth and offered it to his standing pal by the door. “Take it and sit down with us, bro.” Imitating an obedient puppy, Theo bowed his head down slightly in submission and listened to Seb’s command like an order. After Theo sat and brought the joint to his lips, taking a puff. Wesley glared at his childhood friend, unhappy with Seb’s decision to hand out his weed stash to anyone. “There, buddy. Chill a bit with us, alright, pal?” Seb smirked as he rolled himself another fag on the old walnut desk. “Dude! Don’t you go giving my stuff to everyone here tonight, bro!” Wesley vocalized. “Calm down, Wes. That’s my little buddy Theo and I love him to death! No homo, tho, bro!” Seb chuckled as he lighted the new cig. “You’re so gay, dude.” Theo rolled his eyes. “Good thing Dimi’s a cowboy tonight.” Wesley added, setting back in the leather chair behind the computer desk. “If we’ve got a fag slipping in, that gun might have some use.” “Dude, that’s not a bit radical?” Theo frowned. “Don’t get me wrong — I don’t approve of their lifestyle choice, but we kinda need these guys in society too.” Wesley gave him a dark eye. He aggressively took his beer can on the expansive desk. “Name me one thing this garbage is good for.” He spitted out of spite. “Well… I kinda need someone to make my coffee at McDonald’s.” Theo sniggered. “And that means more girls for us.” The scorn on the drug addict’s face shifted into a scary smile as he burst into laughter. “Dude! Seb, is that the Theo guy you talked about?” “In the flesh!” Sebastian gestured like a show master. “I guess you were right. Even nerds can be funny sometimes. Maybe there’s hope for the male race after all!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Saturday, October 31st, 2020 — 9:45 PM ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ A party wouldn’t just be one without playing flip-the-cup. Braxton and Victor had both removed their headwear to facilitate the downing of their beer cups against the two girls with whom the competed. Mathilda now used her majestic faux-golden staff more like a cane rather than an artifact for her costume — she barely could stand anymore. Jennifer, on the other hand, had better alcohol retention, but she kept jiggling and spilling beer on the sticky table and floor. The hair she had earlier shaped into a beautiful flower bulb had lost it dynamism and now looked like a greenish muffin top. While the girls were winning another round against the jocks, Asher and Dimitri just arrived on the first floor, having dragged up a foosball table from the home bar downstairs. The guys walked across the hall into the living room where the heart of the party was beating full mast. “Foosball time!” Dimitri and Asher shouted in chorus before bursting into laughter like a buffoon duo. The call was hyping the guests enough that even the smoking trio in the study left their cave to join in the fun. The games started as teams of two, until Mathilda had the brightest idea in the world and everyone held on to only one rotator, making sides of four instead. It was crowded and people kept bickering and shoving each other out of the way, but it provided a lot of fun nonetheless. As a good host, Dimitri gave his place to his eight guests until Wesley grew bored with the game and lie back on one of the couches. Mathilda was questioning herself about her idea when a repetitive soft tug in her hair starting annoying her. She thought her hair had tangled into her costume, but when she turned around, she met with a white ghostly face screaming at her. Her shriek made everyone look for her and begin to laugh as the Latina slipped on the wet floor and fell on her ass. Right behind her stood a tall person dressed in robes as dark as night, with the mask of Ghostface, holding in a knife in its hand. The figure was soon grabbed into a headlock by Dimitri, then Braxton, the three of them slipping on the ground as well. The two brutes had the stalker under control until they also heard the laughs coming from underneath the costume. “You should have seen her face!” The voice guffawed. “Larry? What the fuck, bro!” Dimitri exclaimed in shock, but soon after joined in the laugh. The two men on top of him moved and the host took his little brother’s hand to help him back up. Mathilda, embarrassed to no end, snapped with anger, failing to stand by keeping on slipping on the beer-covered floor. “You’re such a creep!” She pestered at him, red with humiliation. Jennifer tried pulling her back up via the Egyptian staff — while her boyfriend was laughing out loud — but the two girls ended falling on top of each other. “Jenny — ouch! Seb — DO SOMETHING! You, fucker! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you ALL! All of you!” “Alright, alright.” Sebastian complied, walking to help his lover up. “That was a good one, bro!” Dimitri approved, giving Larry a brotherly slap on the back. “Though you should run away while you can!” “I was just coming to get a few snacks before my raid.” Larry pulled his mask off, beaming a content smile. “Well, you—…” Lights went off abruptly. Music faded into nothingness. Total darkness invaded the space. The surprised cries and exclamations were absorbed into the thick void surrounding the party members. Dimitri tried to bring back the attention to him when, out of a sudden, the fireplace lightened by itself, diffusing a dimmed orange hue to the vast living room. “What the fuck is going on?!” Dimitri blurted out in confusion. “HELLO.” A distorted voice echoed from the corners of the room and from within each present individual. The first one to take his phone out was Theo, who attempted to use its flashlight. Only then did he realize his screen looked glitched out — the alien sound came from its small speakers. “What… guys! My phone’s bugged!” “Fucking hell?! Mine too!” Braxton added before the distorted voice spoke again. “Tonight is not like any others. The ten of you gathered here is no mere coincidence. Each of you, to an extent depicted examples of homophobic bigotry against people, which lead to the self-destruction and suffering of poor, weaker-minded individuals.” “Where the fuck are you?” Seb asked aloud, taking in his hands the axe he’s left by the couch earlier. “Show yourself!” The voice continued: “Braxton Bellman — your jealousy against Richard Biggs making the football team only fuelled your homophobic bigotry to kick him out. But the school wouldn’t let him out because he was the best player. So, you made sure to ‘accidentally’ have his leg broken so that he couldn’t play on the team anymore. Did that bitter win in your hollow head made up for all the further matches your team lost? Victor Fortune — whilst you confidently say you are a handsome fuck machine, you had often pushed back the advances of numerous people because of their skin colour or orientation. You never miss a chance to proudly display your confederation flag to show much of a white suprematist you are. You used your straight white cis male privileges to influence many peers as the representative student in school, disrespecting whoever didn’t share the same traits as yours. Theodore James — you do not exert physical violence to assert your intolerance, but you rather attack psychologically your victims. The shameful names and stereotypes you call them instead of the proper ones make them all the more vulnerable to others who would act brutally. Sebastian Joseph — in any room you go, you attract anyone’s eyes. You are the tall, charismatic, person any man or woman would love to spend a good time with. However, this handsome shell of yours hides a dark soul. In pure malice, you used your good looks to flirt with Henri Thompson, just to play him out as a whole joke in front of the school. That man still is afraid to date anyone today. Mathilda Lopez — instead of sympathizing with your ex-boyfriend Greg when he confided you with his bisexuality, you acted like the worst bitch ever. Not only you broke up with him, but you leaked multiple personal pics of him on social media, shaming him for his sexual orientation as well, resulting in having him brutalized and sent to the ER. He is still in the coma to this day. Wesley Peterson — you are a dropout and a thug who doesn’t give a damn about anyone other than himself. You vandalized Oliver McClay’s car and locker with graffiti in High School, showing the world that he was homosexual. Know that Oliver McClay took his own life a month after changing school. Asher Ship — your homophobic bigotry against your younger brother Ken has led him into clinical depression. This led him to grow overweight and develop paranoia. He even tried to take his own life numerous times, almost succeeding more than once. It’s a miracle of sorts if he is still alive today. Jennifer Taylor — nobody can confide you anything. When Roger Mayer shared you his biggest secret that he was a homosexual, you betrayed him and told others. No longer a mystery, Roger’s parents eventually heard about it, making his life as miserable at home as he’s had it at school. Say, when was the last time you talked with Roger? Were you even his friend? Dimitri Wright — host of the night, you clearly selected your guests carefully. Your fingers probably don’t make up for the number of wedgies you’ve given those homosexuals and intellectuals in school. You’re a leader, but you used your diplomatic gifts to bully others rather than implementing justice. Perhaps it’s time to turn the tables? Finally, Larry Wright — just like your brother Dimitri, you have deeply rooted homophobia. If you come across a gay guy in your Fortdey servers, you don’t hesitate to shame and tag them, taking mischievous pleasure in bashing and blackmailing them. Sucks when the servers suspend your account for inappropriate actions, does it?” A hard-felt silence weighed on the ten young adults, to which Wes blurted out: “So fuckin’ what?!” before being hushed at. “Now that your facets are displayed on the table, let’s play a little game, shall we? If you can make it intact by six in the morning, I will let you go. Oh, but we can’t allow cheater, don’t we? No one can leave the house grounds. No electricity, no data. Cheating or sleeping through the night will immediately result in a person losing. Also, let’s spice things up a bit. Anyone who loses can make others lose as well. Among the ten of you, there is one who knows what’s going on — an imposter of sorts. Will you find who fakes this out? Finding it out might make you win earlier than sunrise, but a wrong answer will result in another loss. Good luck.” The speakers shut, and so did all their phones — batteries fried up.
Hey guys, So I finished a story that's been sitting incomplete on my hard drive for the last couple years. A brief warning: it is dark and a little twisted but as it's meant to have a Halloween theme, it's not unexpected. This story evolved from a series of therapy writings I was doing while in treatment for severe depression and trauma. This story may not be for most so while I will appreciate any feedback, pleas make it constructive. Again, you've been warned this is not a "Happily Ever After" sort of tale... or maybe it could be depending on your point of view. I hope you enjoy and have a Happy Halloween! ***** Chapter 1 Halloween. The one day a year where magic seems much more tangible and attainable. Where anything can happen (and often does) in ways that should be unexplainable and yet are accepted as easily as dream logic. I was never a fan of Halloween, even as a kid. Sure, the free candy was nice, but it ranked just slightly above Valentine’s Day in terms of my enthusiasm because I just didn’t get it. This year, that changed. This year I realized the full scope of Halloween. The ancient power it held and how easy it was to tap into that power. This year, Halloween became my favorite holiday. Let me back things up just a bit for you. Proper introductions are important after all. My name is James and I’m what most people call a “good guy”. At least, that’s what I have heard from seemingly everyone lately. Trouble is though that I don’t seem to be good enough. Okay, maybe I should back things up just a bit more for you. A little over a year ago my first real romantic relationship ended. The guy I had been “seeing” for about 8 months told me that he was officially going to be with someone else. Someone younger than I was. Someone who was more outgoing and fun than I was. Someone that was better built than I was (my ex had as much a muscle fetish as I do, more on that later). Someone that he had been seeing the entire time we had been dating (though he refused to call it dating) and even though he said he still cared for me (downgraded from loved me, which he told me he did less than a month before breaking things off) and wanted to be in my life, he needed to follow his heart. Trouble is, I seriously doubt that his heart had anything to do with the matter, other than supplying enough blood to his dick… Anyway, in the months following the “break up” we had been trying to remain friends. I was trying at least, whereas he seemed to be phoning it in most of the time because, let’s face it, he had someone else to devote his time/life to and no one else really seems to matter in that situation. After a series of setups and disappointments by both of them, their constant playing with my emotions and making me question my sense of reality/history, this culminated in quite a severe mental breakdown: a major case of depression resulting in multiple suicide attempts telling myself I wasn’t good enough to keep living. After being hospitalized and attempting my best at treatment, I wasn’t “getting better” as quickly or in the ways he thought I should. Unfortunately, due to this and his own choices, recently he decided that I was no longer worth his time or trouble and he completely cut ties with me. I’m sure many of you are saying that I should have done that first and a long time ago. That I should have moved on, found someone better, written him off as one of the worst human beings on the planet and been done with it. I had more than one therapist tell me as much, or at least something akin to that fact, as well as many friends/family members tell me that I needed to simply forget about him and move on. If only the heart worked on a system of logic like that. My brain certainly did, and I kept telling myself all the things he had done that were clearly in the “con” column to try and give my own heart enough evidence to stop hurting. Alas, the heart is chaotic and ruled by something far stranger, more complex and far more precious than logic. I loved him. I loved him with all I had and I still do because real, true love is unconditional like that. That was enough in the “pro” column to outweigh anything else I could muster in opposition. Still, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hurt, betrayed, disappointed, angry, hell furious to the point of nearly feeling homicidal at both of them, but through all of that pain, I still love him. Anyway, slightly off track so let’s get back to the main part of this story. Throughout the last several months I have done my best to try and “get better”. To improve myself and to regain some semblance of normalcy after the trauma and continued hell that I was put through both by myself and the actions of others (not just my ex). Eventually I was able to learn how to put up enough barriers and walls to not feel like a raw nerve all the time and allow myself time to heal a bit, but let’s face it, wounds that pierce that deep never really heal. Eventually, I realized that I wasn’t going to be the person I was before. Too much of me had changed, too much had been irrevocably lost. I could be someone different, maybe even someone better, but I couldn’t ever get back to the place or the person I was either when I was with him or before. So, I did what I could to make myself feel better, to rebuild my life as it were and a large portion of that would next revolve around me rebuilding a “new” body. One of the things I shared with my ex was a desire to become as big and muscular as possible. I’m not talking cute fitness or “beach bodies” but real hulking muscle monsters. Those beasts of brawn at the top of the bodybuilding community where you part crowds like the Red Sea, and where limited range of motion is the goal. To get to the point where there was no doubt that we were serious meat heads and that we had no desire to slow down nor stop growing anytime soon… well ever really. With his encouragement and guidance, I was able to break through the last mental hurdles I had that were stopping me from actively pursuing that goal and started going to the gym. I had been giving myself no end of excuses for years but with him in my life I finally had enough confidence to put them all aside and start on the path of never-ending growth. I paid for a personal trainer, dedicated myself to it and I was fortunate to share the beginning of that journey with him and even though I stumbled with it for a while after our “break up” I have gotten back to it and have continued to grow and develop and improve myself physically which has helped in many ways to improve myself mentally. The only trouble I had though was that I still tie a lot of this muscle growth journey to him. I still recall our workouts together when I’m lifting, the meals we prepped and shared after a long workout, even when I was giving him his weekly injections. All in the pursuit of our mutual growth. I’m still trying to untangle the goals and desires of being massive from including him and have the focus be for me. However, knowing that he left me for someone bigger and better built than I was while initially highly damaging to me, has now provided plenty of motivation for my workouts. I was going to work my ass off to show him what he missed out on. I may not have been good enough before, but I would do whatever it took to outclass the guy he left me for and show them both what real muscle was! At least, that was the plan. Despite the fact that I had done all this work, changed my physique and was in much better shape and condition than I had ever been, I still was considered a “good guy” but not enough for anyone to want to date or be in a relationship with. Sure, I had many who wanted to fuck me, or be fucked by me, a single photo update on my online profile was enough to see that I had improved physically to be more desirable, but the couple of times I had met someone it was just a hormone release to them, or another sexual conquest and then they ghosted me. I was a good enough one-time disposable fuck toy, but not good enough to date. In my mind, it always came back to the voice that I wasn’t “good enough”. I wasn’t big enough, defined enough, handsome enough, so I did my best to focus that negative energy into my workouts. Given my pre-depression mindset of body dysmorphia for wanting to be a juggernaut of muscle and strength, this caused quite the feedback loop of pushing myself like a madman in the gym. Having all that fuel the fire of my workouts has no doubt been a benefit given my progress in the last few months even if it tends to scare off some people at the gym. Several friends I have lifted with commented that when they see the determination and focus on my face during a set, to them it came across as intimidating, aggressive and what one friend lovingly refers to as RBF (Resting Bitch Face). “Hey James, how have you been?” I jump and turn around to see Scott one machine down from me. “Oh, hey Scott, didn’t see you there. I’m good man, how’re you?” Normally I would say that even if I had seen him so as not to come across as a creeper, but I really hadn’t noticed him because when I lift, I am 100% focused on my form and my own body. All my concentration is in my muscles to ensure maximum engagement and results. I don’t scan the gym for whatever eye candy is there and ogle the guys showing off like so many do, despite Scott being seriously delicious eye candy. Plus, today he was in very different gym attire than what I was used to seeing him in (head to toe oversized sweats instead of a tight muscle tee and even tighter shorts that he normally wore) including a cap that obstructed his face so I honestly didn’t recognize it was him. “Not surprised. You’ve got better focus than almost anybody I’ve seen. I bet a riot could erupt and you wouldn’t know until you were done with your set!” “Probably. Came close to that the other day apparently. There was some issue with another member that had to be asked to leave and I had to ask what happened after all was said and done because I was doing a drop set and missed the whole thing! Besides, you look like you’re trying to avoid the paparazzi dressed like that! What’s new with you? Still prepping for that show in February?” Scott had planned and started doing prep three months ago for a show that took place last week but had to back out last minute due to other obligations. Scott had one of the best physiques I’ve ever seen in person coupled with a model level gorgeous face and a really nice, genuine personality. He was honestly as close to my ideal guy as possible which of course meant he was unavailable. Despite that letdown, he has taught me quite a bit about different exercises, plus helped me a bit with how to pose (which is nowhere near as easy as spectators believe). “Oh yeah, that was a bit of a mess I heard. Steph had to threaten to call the cops before he finally left.” “Yep. Which given the fact that I’m sure she could have kicked this guy’s ass by herself was merely a courtesy to him.” Steph was one of the employees at the gym. She is about 5’6 or so but better built and more conditioned than half of the guys who work out here. Couple that with a “take no shit” type of personality and she’s a force to be reckoned with! She will speak her mind even if it’s not in a professional way and is one of the funniest and friendliest people I know. She is not someone I would like to mess with though, even if I have a good 6” in height and 100 or so pounds on her. She’s small but she’s scrappy. “No doubt! I would not want to get on her bad side for sure! And no, not looking to avoid the paparazzi, I’m not that popular. Yeah in the midst of prep for it, hence the sweats. Time to up the cardio and it’s better to do cardio in sweats or heavy clothing as it traps the heat meaning you burn more calories. So how have you been? Haven’t seen you for a while.” Scott and I tended to lift at about the same time every day depending on our work schedules and had developed a rapport. Because I found him so easy to talk to, he inadvertently was one of those people that I had dumped my problems onto without consciously realizing it. The biggest of which happened to be my love life, or lack thereof, and all the things that had happened with Lee (my ex). He was one of the few people who helped keep me accountable and consistently going to the gym to help work through my issues and use the weights to better myself. Even though he was straight (which I found out after asking him out on an impulse, however he was extremely gracious and tactful in his response to my invitation) he was truly a nice guy and always had a nice word for me to help bolster my spirits. “Um, good, I guess. Been a rough few days at work but hanging in there as best I can. Have another ‘anniversary’ coming up which will be a challenge but somehow, I will make it through. And believe me, you’re more popular than you realize! I’ll admit to having the urge to be a paparazzi and sneak a few shots of you from time to time! I haven’t, but the urge is there. You’ve got a killer physique; one you’ve worked really hard developing and one that should be photographed and shown off.” One thing I’ve learned about most “straight” guys who are bodybuilders, if you stroke their ego enough, they tend to overlook the sexual inuendo and subtle flirting. “Ha!” he laughed and looked humble (yet another thing I found so attractive about him) “Maybe at a show, not any other time. But sorry to hear that you’re having a rough time. Well Halloween is coming up so that should help you right? Isn’t Tric doing some big Halloween party? You should get dressed up, go out, get drunk, have some fun. Take your mind off things for a night.” “You would think so right? I do actually have tentative plans with some friends to go to a party, but the anniversary is Halloween. Spent it with my ex last year post break-up to try and see how well we mesh as friends and he was the happiest I have ever seen him. The later it got, the drunker he got and more he went on about how great the other guy was and how happy he was in the relationship. Hard to sit through. Still, all I can do is take things one step at a time which right now means getting back to my workout and not letting a super stud like you distract me from my gains!” I laughed and took a quick sip from my shaker while I waited for his reply. He raised his hands in surrender with a grin forming on his face. “I wouldn’t dream of doing that! I need to get my ass on the stair climber anyway. Have a good workout man and I’ll catch you later!” He shook my hand before turning to leave. “Good luck climbing the Empire State Building!” I called after him grinning. He turned to smile back and then we both returned to our respective workouts. I finished up my chest workout a short while later having fully exhausted myself and burned through all my frustrations caused by my job that day. I managed to catch Scott's eye and wave as I walked out of the gym saying goodbye to the person at the desk. Once outside I patted down and searched in my pockets to find my keys. Realizing they weren’t there and most likely landed in my gym bag, I stopped at the back of my car setting the bag on the trunk to fish them out. Without warning, I was starting to sob digging around my bag. Despite every effort to the contrary, the memories of last Halloween were filling my mind and I was recalling the look of pure exultant joy on the face of the man that I saw my future with knowing he had already chosen another… “Excuse me?” I hear a voice from slightly behind me and turning around I was face to face with a middle-aged woman. Wiping my face quickly I did my best to put on a smile and “brave face”. “Yes?” I asked trying my best to look respectable and courteous despite wanting to run away to be alone. “I’m so sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something. I brought this old chest to sell at the antique store here and I’m having some trouble getting it out of my car. Would you be so kind as to help me?” “Of course. Let me just put my bag in my car quick and I’ll be right there.” I smiled again and using the remote on my keys to unlock the doors, which I had finally located and extricated from the jungle of my gym bag, tossed the bag in the back seat and followed to her vehicle. “Thank you so much for this. I was counting on someone in the store being able to help me, but no one seems to be around and I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She did look slightly frazzled saying this and checked her watch to see the time. “It’s no trouble. I’m happy to help out.” She had a sizeable chest, at least a good 3 feet long and 2 feet wide secured with bungie cords into the trunk of her car. It had very intricate carvings all along it and despite looking extremely old, it was in almost immaculate condition. “This is beautiful.” I commented as I began undoing the bungie cords. “It’s a hope chest, right? My mom has one. Not nearly as detailed as this but about the same size.” “Yes. It belonged to my great aunt who recently passed away. I’m in charge of her estate and when some things didn’t sell at the auction and no one claimed them as inheritance, my only choice left was to sell them. For some reason this one didn’t sell at the auction even though the auctioneer was sure it would be one of the highest ticket items due to its condition. A friend suggested I bring it here.” Having been dragged to several auctions as a kid (and hating every minute of it) this was odd to me. Usually people will buy the strangest things when they can do so for pennies on the dollar of what they are actually worth. And this piece seemed highly valuable, so it was a shock to me that someone hadn’t snatched it up. I managed to pull the chest out easily enough given it was empty and she closed the trunk. “Actually, my friend suggested I try for that Antique Roadshow first and that maybe it would be end up being worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I don’t want to spend that much time and effort on it. I just need to get rid of it as I live out of state and can’t miss too much more work.” “I’m sorry to hear that. Loosing someone is never easy.” I puffed out as I walked trying my best to hold onto this thing. It was an awkward shape and size with no handles and I guess, without realizing it, I was trying to show off for this complete stranger by not having her help me carry it. Hearing about this woman’s family member dying shifted my mind immediately back to Lee as I walked toward the antique store next door to my gym. It was so strange that I only now realized it was exactly like a death that I was mourning but he was still alive. He was forever out of my life as though he died but he is still living and happy just not with me which somehow made it that much worse. “Thank you. To be honest, I never knew her that well so I’m not sure why she entrusted me to do all this, but here I am.” She shrugged at this and walked a bit ahead of me to hold open the door to the antique store. “You can just leave that here they said. Someone will take it to the back when we’re done filling out the paperwork after the appraisal. Thank you so much again for your help.” “You’re very welcome. I hope you have a good rest of your day and sorry again for your loss.” I smiled and turned to leave when something about the chest recaptured my attention. The woman was already moving deeper into the store to find the clerk or whomever to do the appraisal, but I was drawn back to this chest. It really was beautifully decorated and well maintained on the outside. Wonder what the inside looks like I thought and found myself kneeling to open it. It opened smoothly and was almost completely empty except for a single piece of paper. Reaching in to check it wasn’t something the woman might need that would accidently get lost with the chest, I found myself stunned at what I was looking at. The page looked and felt ancient. That really old thick paper or parchment that you see in movies or TV shows that is from the 1700’s or something. It didn’t feel delicate or fragile despite its apparent age. It was obviously torn from a book given the single jagged edge, but the rest of whatever book it came from was nowhere to be found. What was even more intriguing about this old page however was what was written on it: This page is conjured for a person whose life is woefully out of balance. Someone has caused you great pain for their own gain and this must be brought back to balance. Use the power of All Hallows Eve to call upon the forces needed to restore balance. If you truly believe, the instructions will appear. If not, this page will soon vanish and travel to the next person most in need of its services. I looked up with the overwhelming desire to laugh. This had to be a joke, right? Was there a camera somewhere, or was this planned just for me? It was too… specific. Well no more or less specific than most psychic readings in my opinion. Despite my skepticism, I always thought there was something out there beyond the tangible. Never really anything as mainstream as magic as that felt too easy, but I’ve had too many unexplainable things happen that I can’t help but believe there is some kind of force working in our lives that we haven’t identified… or maybe just forgot about/lost faith in? I looked around the store quickly to see if the woman had returned or was nearby to ask about this strange page and when I couldn’t locate her, assumed she went into a manager's office or back room and returned my gaze to the paper. There, below the first few lines, a new sentence appeared: No this is not a joke. That wasn’t there before. I know it wasn’t. Must have been some reaction to the sunlight after being planted in the dark chest. I remember reading about inks and dyes that act like “invisible” ink but require light or heat to be made visible again. Definitely a neat trick or novelty item, especially given that Halloween was so close. The only thing that could have made this even creepier would be… James I watched as my name was written onto the parchment. Not slowly appeared as though the ink were drying, but actually written out, letter by letter by some unseen hand. I dropped the paper in shock. Okay… either this is the best prank setup in history… Or it’s real. Like really real. Holy… or maybe unholy? There was no denying now that I believed this was some sort of magic but the question now thundering in my head was: what would be the cost of using it? I heard the sing song, high pitched voice of Rumpelstiltskin from Once Upon A Time in my head: “Magic always comes with a price dearie”. What exactly would happen? Restore my life to balance? That could mean any number of things. Without even really registering it, I had picked up the paper from the floor, folded it gently before putting it in my pocket then I was walking towards the back of the store to find the woman. She was talking to a man in what looked like a back-office area. “How much would you like for the chest?” I asked before really thinking through what I was asking. Why do I suddenly want to buy this woman’s hope chest? I didn’t have a use for it, didn’t really have a place for it in my apartment... but something inside told me I had to have it. “Oh!” She was shocked by this and said she’d be happy with $200. I told her I would be right back as there was an ATM at the end of the strip mall. The salesperson looked annoyed and I heard him say he could beat the price, offering to pay several hundred dollars more, but apparently the fact that no one from the store had helped her move the chest countered the lost income. Not to mention would save her time not having to fill out paperwork and wait for this guy before she could leave. I returned about 5 minutes later with the cash in hand and hauled off the chest I just brought inside back out to my car. Bringing over the bungie cords she had used and giving them to me as a ‘bonus with purchase”, she shook my hand and thanked me. I moved around to the driver’s door pulling out the folded page from my pocket as I went and got in the car. I had originally planned to go home and have my post workout meal but as I sat in the car looking at the unfolded page with the instructions for what to do magically appearing, I knew those plans had changed. Now, I have a couple stops to make.