The Bet 3: Out of Control (musc hypno)
by Jaypat
That night when I got home from the Halloween party, I couldn’t even think of sleeping, not with Derek in danger of having his brain chopped up. Right after I tossed Chad’s shirt into the deepest recesses of my closet, I booted up my computer, and looked for the piece of subliminal malware so I could create a counter suggestion. Crap. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I must have deleted it. Damn, well there was only one thing to do. I’d have to wipe his hard drive. Maybe the programming would fade. “Sorry, Derek,” I’d say. “Little accident there. I hope you have your back up discs.” And it would be done. Satisfied with my solution, I finally went to bed.On Monday I was horrified to discover that Derek hadn’t come to school. Oh my God, what if I was too late? Practically in a panic, I called him. When I didn’t get an answer, I called his mom. She told me he had taken off for a couple of days to attend a pre-frosh program at Pen State where he was going the following fall. Relief washed over me until I realized that this might just be an elaborate cover. Of course, he wasn’t going to say, “Hey mom, I’m just running down the street to have brain surgery. Be back at six.” I called Pen State. Sure enough, there was no pre-frosh program there this week. Oh my God, Derek was probably under the knife at this very moment! But where? I had no idea where.
Forgetting everything else, I made my way to the weight room where I was sure to find Frank Pierce. Ignoring all don’t-talk-to-the-meat protocols, I marched right up to him and demanded, “Where’s Derek?”
Frank had been in the middle of a set of bench presses when I arrived. He set down the barbell and sat up looking like he was about to start swinging, but when he saw who it was, the fight seemed to evaporate out of him.
“Oh, you’re one of Derek’s buds,” he said, “the blond one.”
“Yes, I am one of Derek’s… buds. Where is he? Where is that lunatic cutting open his brain?”
“Oh, you know about that,” said Frank.
“Yes, I know about that. How could you let him do something so stupid?!”
“Don’t look at me, dude. I told him it was a bad idea. I mean, I juice every now and then, but brain surgery, that’s whacked. But he wouldn’t listen. I mean, I thought I was obsessed with getting bigger, but Derek… Man, he is a whole other league of obsessed.”
Ok, just when I didn’t think I could feel any worse. “But where is he?”
Frank looked at his watch and shook his head. “It was at 9:00 am this morning. Dude, it’s all over by now.”
Suddenly every ounce of strength I had ran right out of me, and I slumped down onto a bench. I’d killed him. I’d killed Derek. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to show him the finer points of muscle appreciation. How could this have happened?
“Are you ok?” asked Frank, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“No,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ok again.”
“You know, it might be fine,” he said. “Everything might just be fine.”
I could hear Frank’s words and they seemed to make sense, but somehow I just couldn’t connect fine with Derek having his brain cut open. I don’t know why. Maybe I was just funny that way.
The next day was a grey haze. No one had heard anything about Derek. I wondered if we ever would, or if he would just vanish without a trace. Poof, no more Derek. His mom would probably call the police. Maybe they’d even discover the subliminal malware on his computer. They might even trace it to me. Then they could arrest me. I’d go quietly, without a fight, confess everything. Yes, I killed him. I killed Derek in the name of muscle lust.
Peter noticed I was down, and asked me what the matter was. But I’d never gotten around to telling him about the malware and I sure couldn’t tell him now. I wouldn’t have even known where to begin.
The next day I almost didn’t go to school, but in the end I did. No sooner did I walk in the door than I saw him. I saw Derek! He was alive! His head was shaved. He had a bandage on the top of his skull, but he was alive! He came up to me in the hall with this big smile on his face.
“It’s ok, Brandon,” he said. “I heard you were worried, but everything went great! The Doc said there was a possibility I’d get to be seven feet tall but he couldn’t guarantee it. He did promise me at least a foot. Can you fucking believe it? That’ll make me at least six nine! Is that awesome or what?
“Awesome,” I said, still trying to process the fact that Derek was alive and not a drooling idiot—well, except for the whole growth thing. Seven feet tall? Please.
“And Dude, I’ve got so many hormones flooding my system right now. I can work out three times a day and get results each time. Three times a fucking day! My metabolism is off the charts.” He flexed and showed me his baseball sized bicep again. “I’m going to be so fucking huge.”
“Yeah,” I said, “great.”
“I gotta go,” said Derek, “but I’ll catch you at lunch.”
Yup, lunch. I’d be there ready to wipe his hard drive. I may have not been able to stop the brain surgery, but I intended to stop him from doing anything else stupid.
At lunch I got to hear Derek’s cover story as he told it to Peter. He said there had been hazing at the pre-frosh event and they had shaved his head. The bandage was because he had rolled out of the top bunk in a set of dorm bunk beds. His brain may have been carved up, but he seemed to be thinking just fine. And there was nothing wrong with his appetite. He ate about four times what he usually ate. It was pretty amazing to watch. Only one thing was strange. He didn’t pull out his computer once during lunch. I was flabbergasted. I mean it had to be a first. Oh well, I’d just have to sabotage it tomorrow.
But the next day, strangeness took on new dimensions. First, frustratingly enough, Derek went through another lunch period without pulling out his computer. Second, he ate even more than the day before. And third and possibly the most amazing thing was that he actually seemed physically bigger. His chest and shoulders actually seemed larger, as if they were pulling his shirt a little tighter all across them and he might even have been a little taller. He said he’d put on ten pounds since the operation. I knew it was unlikely but looking at him, I had to believe it. “Gonna be huge,” he grinned, flexing. Man, it looked like his biceps were bigger, too.
And the rest of the week went pretty much the same way. It was hard to believe but everyday Derek looked a little bigger. He ate huge amounts of food, usually high protein stuff he brought from home. And his backpack was filled with a seemingly endless supply of protein bars that he was almost constantly munching on. He worked out three times a day and swore that he made progress each and every time. And looking at him, I believed it.
Each day I watched his shoulders grow a little larger and a little broader. His pecs began rounding out into globes, looking fuller and pulling his shirt tighter and tighter around them. I saw his lats slowly form into small wings, straining his tightening shirt even further. His biceps bulged up a little larger every day until at the end of the week, they were filling his sleeves. He was completely jazzed about what was happening to him and sometimes he would just stop eating and start checking himself out, right there at the lunch table, knocking on his stomach and running his fingers over his hard swelling pecs. He loved to flex and show us the huge veiny softball that was now erupting out of his upper arm. But he never once cracked his computer.
By the following Monday, a week after the operation, there was no doubt he was taller than Peter and me by at least an inch. His shirt looked like it had reached its limit hugging every curve and bulge on his upper body. He said he’d gained thirty pounds since the operation and I swore I could see every ounce of them harassing his shirt as it clung to his bulging chest and back. Holy crap, he was becoming a genuine stud, and so quickly.
“Fuck, I feel awesome. Check out my back,” he said, as his made his lats flair for me. Damn, he was getting wide, but I refused to be distracted. I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted that malware destroyed before anything else happened.
“Derek, where’s your computer,” I finally asked.
“Oh,” he said. “I don’t have it anymore.”
I felt panic rip through me. “What do you mean you don’t have it anymore?”
“I sold it,” he said. “I needed the money. That operation wasn’t cheap.”
“You sold it?” I gasped, horrified. “To who?”
“Mark Wassenburg,” he said. “The cheap bastard didn’t give me half what it was worth.”
I was out of my chair like a shot, making a bee line for the computer lab. Jim Schneider and Nick Gibson were there, but no Mark Wassenburg. Figures.
“Where’s Mark?” I asked.
Jim and Nick looked at each other and shrugged. “He’s not in school today,” said Jim.
“Is he sick?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jim. “He’s visiting an aunt or something.”
A horrible thought began to form in my brilliant mind. “He hasn’t been acting weird lately, has he?”
Jim and Nick exchanged another look, and without them having to say anything, I knew that he had.
“Nothing too weird,” said Nick. “He’s just been hanging out in the weight room a lot.”
HOLY CRAP!
I ran back to the cafeteria as quickly as I could. Peter had left and Derek was just packing up to go.
“Derek,” I gasped, out of breath from so much running. “Was your brain guy’s contact information on your computer when you sold it?”
“I think so,” he said, “Yeah, the whole e brochure was on there. Why?”
“I think Mark Wassenburg may be having his brain cut open at this very moment.”
“Seriously?” said Derek. “That’s outstanding.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I said. I didn’t. I was horrified.
He smiled. “I was a little worried I might feel like a freak when this was all done,” he explained. “But with two of us, it’ll be a lot easier.” He flexed his powerful bulging bis again and this time I heard threads popping. “Damn, I love how I never stop growing,” he grinned.
And he just didn’t seem to. The next day he came down the cafeteria looking like he might burst from excitement. Damn, he was definitely bigger. I don’t know how he squeezed into that shirt. It was obviously way too small for him now. It was stretched so tight you could clearly see his pecs and abs heaving and bugling beneath it.
“Dudes, dudes, you’ve got to see this,” he said to Peter and me. “I’ve been trying to control myself all day, you know, saving it for you guys, but check this out.” Then he flexed. His biceps bulged up, looking even bigger than they had yesterday. They strained his sleeves, popping threads for a second before his big, granite-hard muscles just exploded out of them. Man, they were tall rocky peaks bigger than softballs with the shreds of his shirt still clinging to them the way mist clung to mountains.
http://i232.photobucket.com/albums/e.../Derek0002.jpg
“Did you see that?” he grinned. “Man, that was even cooler than when I did it at home this morning. All my shirts are too fucking small now. Can you believe that? Damn, I’m getting so fucking huge.” And he was taller, too. I had to look up to meet his eyes, and when I looked down, I could see his pants cuffs up around his ankles.
Derek sat down, pulled a pair of scissors from his back pack. Then he took off his shirt and started cutting the ruined sleeves from it. OH MY GOD. He was getting huge. I mean I could tell he was big even through his shirt, but it’s a whole other thing when I could see his body uncovered. He had solid round pecs like cantaloupes hovering above a massively cut six pack. His shoulders seemed miles wide with a couple of huge hill-like traps rising out of them framing his thick bulging neck. And I could see his lats peeking out at me from behind his ribcage. I was getting hard just watching his sizable forearms bulge and relax as he cut his shirt.
I suddenly felt so conflicted. I mean on one hand I loved what was happening to Derek. It was insanely hot. But on the other hand my part in what he’d done to himself to get there still bothered me.
“So what do you think, guys,” said Derek pulling a most muscular from a seated position. Those cantaloupes exploded outwards and grew ridges. His cut six pack looked like it was going to leap right out of his stomach. His traps were huge mounds rising up on either side of a bull neck. And his arms bulged out looking even bigger than they had even a moment before. My God, looking at all that huge muscle bulging up within touching distance was taking my breath away, and to think that was Derek. Holy Crap, my mind felt like it was about to lock up.
“You might not believe this,” said Derek, “but it feels even better than it looks. Do you think I could join your parade now?”
“Fuck, you can lead it,” said Peter, his mouth hanging open. “That’s one hell of a growth spurt you’re having.”
Derek grinned back at him. “Yeah, and I have a feeling it’s just getting started. Just wait. You ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m going to be so huge, they’ll have to widen the doors for me.”
The thought of Derek continually getting bigger was just too much for me. My hormones overrode my guilt complex and I made a bee line for the bathroom. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Peter right behind me.
“I call dibs on the wheelchair stall,” he said.
The next day Mark Wassenburg came back to school, head shaved and with a bandage. His cover story was that there had been a horrible kitchen accident at his aunts house and that his hair and caught fire and had to be cut off. The bandage was for a burn. I found myself really wanting to believe it. I mean he looked pretty normal otherwise. You know, no drooling or slurred words or anything. But by the end of the week he was an inch taller and that’s not all. He’d been skin and bones before, but now there were definite pecs appearing under his shirt and when he bent his arm, clear biceps could be seen forming in his sleeve. Damn, I had to get to that computer.
I went down to the computer lab, but only Nick was there. It was odd, only a month ago I would have found all four of them there huddled around some monitor. The room looked oddly vacant with only Nick playing some game all on his own.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Oh it’s you, Brandon,” said Nick, turning away from his game. “Maybe you can tell me what the fuck is going on. They’re all down in the weight room. It’s like they’ve all gone muscle crazy. And, Jesus, have you seen Derek?”
“Yup, I’ve seen Derek. Oh man, have I seen Derek.” Then it hit me. “What, all of them? Even Jim?”
“Yeah, Jim started going last week, just after you came by last time.”
You didn’t need a brain as brilliant as mine to figure this one out. “Jim didn’t buy Derek’s computer from Mark, did he?” I asked, hoping against hope I was wrong.
“Yeah, he did,” said Nick, “but I don’t know why he bothered. He just turned around and sold it to me today.”
“He sold it to you?”
“Yeah.”
“You have it right here now?”
“Sure.”
I couldn’t believe my luck. “Can I see it?”
“Why?” he asked, his brow knitting.
I’d better come up with something fast. “It’s ah… broken. I have to fix it.”
“It’s not broken,” he said. “I went over it very carefully before I bought it. It works great.”
Oh man, I didn’t want to do this but I had no choice. No more brain surgeries. “Can I buy it from you then?”
I’d caught him by surprise. I could tell. He thought about it for a minute.
“Ok,” he said, “for three thousand dollars.”
HOLY CRAP! “You paid three thousand dollars for it?!”
“No. I got it for five hundred, but it would cost me that much to replace it. That’s a state of the art machine. The video card is insane.”
Of course, it’s a gamer’s PC, the most expensive kind. “I don’t have that kind of money,” I said.
“Then, I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said. I had a couple of savings bonds. I hated to do it but I could cash one of them in. “I’ll get the money. Just do me a favor and don’t use it.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No, you have to trust me on this. That PC is why all your friends are acting weird.”
“Sure it is.”
“No, seriously, it’s sending subliminal messages to their brains.”
“Yeah, right,” he said. “And I suppose that’s an established scientific fact.”
“Yes it is.” And why did those words sound so familiar?
“Dude, get real,” said Nick. “If you think I’m going to lower the price, forget it. Three thousand dollars. End of line.”
“Just don’t use it.” I tried one last time.
“Yeah, right. I’ll see you when you’ve got the money, and not before.” Then Nick picked up his backpack and left.
Fuck! It would take me at least a week to get that money, and by then Nick would be shaved, bandaged and pumping himself up right along side the others. Not that this in itself was a bad thing. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before one of these procedures went horribly wrong. Then I’d have a death or worse on my conscious.
I kept thinking about getting that money. That was a lot of money. My grandmother had given me those bonds when I was twelve. And as I contemplated cashing one, I realized I wasn’t exactly sure where they were kept. It turned out they were in a safety deposit box, but it wasn’t even in this state. I wrote my grandmother asking her to cash one for me. I didn’t even have to lie about the reason. I told her I needed the money to buy a computer. But it was going to take me a lot longer than a week to get the money. Nick would be well and truly programmed by then. Then it hit me, along with a sinking feeling, that as soon as the subliminal messages took hold, Nick would probably take a lot less for the PC.
I couldn’t think about much else that week. On Friday I saw Mark again, Christ, he was a least six three, and his clothes was pulling tight all over him. His pecs were stressing his buttons and his widening lats were stretching his shirt back taut. His sleeves were rolled up and I could see how thick and ripped his forearms were getting. Holy crap, another guy was becoming a muscle stud right in front of me.
Derek’s growth was out of control. He was over six feet tall now and, even though his shirts had stopped fitting him more than a week ago, he still wore them. All the sleeves were gone, either cut off or torn off, leaving those constantly swelling pythons in full view for all to see. Their hard, bulging hugeness had surpassed even our favorite linebacker’s guns in size and were definitely pushing nineteen steely inches with thick veins running across them and up to his mammoth delts.
Every day his shoulders seemed to push further and further out from his thickening neck, while insane traps rose thicker and higher creating a rolling landscape from shoulder to shoulder. His back and pecs were getting so broad that he was forced to cut a slit down the front center of his t- shirts from the neck to just below the chest, to give his huge upper body room to expand and prevent his shirt from exploding off of him. Each day that slit would pull wider and wider, showcasing more and more of his impressive muscle cleavage, formed by pecs which seemed to get bigger and bigger every time I saw him. And he just kept growing taller causing the bottom of his shirt to ride up, giving anyone who cared to look a glimpse of the bottom row of his truly impressive abdominals. Derek was transforming into a true muscle monster right in front of my eyes, and it was getting difficult to look at him without getting hard. Peter was having the same trouble, and I was pretty sure Derek knew the effect he was having on us. He never passed up an opportunity to flex in front of us, and he seemed to get a kick out of constantly sending us scurrying toward the bathroom.
I asked him once if he wanted to get together outside of school. I knew he had a thing for me and holy crap, I was starting to get a real thing for his body!
“Oh, Brandon,” he said, looking really upset “if you had only asked me at the Halloween party, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes fast enough. But now… oh man, I only have a little time before my body chemistry normalizes. I have to get as big as possible. I don’t know how to explain this to you. It’s just so important to me, more than anything. Sex just takes too much energy that I need for my workouts. But don’t worry; I’ll come knocking just as soon as I finish growing. And I promise you, you’ll hear me coming, because my lightest footsteps are going to be setting off car alarms.” He grinned and flexed for me.
No sex til then? Man, that went way beyond obsessed.
The following week Jim Schneider disappeared from school. I didn’t even bother to find out his cover story. I knew where he was. After school, I headed to the computer lab to see if Nick would drop his price yet. I wasn’t really surprised to find the lab empty. That’s ok. I knew where I had to go.
I’d hardly ever been to the weight room, but I knew where it was. Sure enough, they were all there, Derek, Mark and Nick. Derek and Mark had their shirts off. They were flexing and checking themselves out in the mirror.
Derek wasn’t just big anymore, he was gigantic. His body had a ponderous size and mass to it. Jesus, he was like four of me put together. In just the few weeks since I’d last seen him shirtless, he looked like he’d tripled in size. About six foot four inches tall, every muscle on him was bulging out to huge proportions. He was so fucking wide at the shoulders and in the back, it was a wonder he could fit through doors any more. His shoulders were like soccer balls, his traps, thick and mountainous, almost reached up to his head. I could see so many huge thick muscles writhing and pulsing in his back as he moved that I couldn’t keep track of them all. His flexed bicep was just enormous, like a small pile of skin-covered boulders piled up on his arm, with vine-like veins crawling all over them. His legs were spread slightly apart but only because they had to be. His magnificent thighs wouldn’t let them get any closer. And each freaky huge muscle on those legs was clearly defined under his paper thin skin.
Holy crap, look at him, just one solid, writhing mass of muscle. I couldn’t believe that was my friend I’d known since middle school. It was like he used to be Derek but now he was something more, something much fucking more, something incredibly powerful, and he was getting me really, really hard.
Mark was no slouch either. If Derek hadn’t been standing right next to him, he would have owned that room. I guess this gland thing effected people differently. Mark had started off at about six feet tall and now he’d shot up at least another six inches. He was even taller than Derek, but he didn’t have anywhere near Derek’s bulk. Although smaller than Derek’s, Mark’s pecs were still pretty large. His nipples were just about at the point where they were being pushed into that downwards position by his burgeoning globes of muscle. So his chest wasn’t quite big enough to shadow his ripped-to-shreds eight pack. His shoulders were large and powerful looking, and his arms showcased a pronounced horseshoe and a softball sized bicep. All that high quality muscle together with all that height, made him damned impressive.
In fact, looking at the two of them together made me want to go someplace private so I could relieve the tension I suddenly felt. But I had to keep my mind on what I was there to do. I focused on Nick. He was still basically a normal, overweight guy just curling a couple twenty-five pound dumbbells.
“Hey, Nick,” I said.
Nick dropped the dumbbells as soon as he saw me and called over to Derek and Mark. “Hey, guys,” he said, “its Brandon.”
Suddenly they stopped their posing session and came to stand around me. Man, I felt like I was in a valley between two mountains.
“I bet you’re here about the computer,” said Nick.
“Yeah,” I said. “You still sticking to your three thousand dollar price?
He got this kind of smirk on his face as he looked up at Derek and Mark. “I don’t think it’s for sale anymore,” he said. “Is it, guys?”
Then the two giants started chuckling, causing their huge pecs to heave in and out over their mammoth rippling abs. Ok, what was going on here? I was starting to get a little nervous. “Why not?” I asked, my voice shaking a little.
“Nick told us what you said to him,” said Derek, “about the subliminal messages. I think we want to hear a little more about this.”
Oh crap! I couldn’t tell him. I just couldn’t. “Don’t listen to me,” I said. “You know how full of crap I am. I was just trying to get him to lower the price.”
“That’s all it was?” said Derek.
“Yeah, that’s all it was,” I answered, gulping.
“Nick, bring it over here,” said Derek.
Nick went over to his backpack and removed the laptop. He set it on a weight bench, opened it and booted it up.
“What are you doing?” I asked, near panic.
“There’s a video on Youtube I’d like you to see,” said Derek.
“On your PC?”
“Well, technically it’s Nick’s, but yeah. Why, you got a problem with that?”
Hell, yes! “No, of course not, but I can’t. Really, I’ve got to go.” I was defiantly panicking now.
“I don’t think so,” said Derek.
I got up but there was another figure standing in front of the door with his large arms crossed. It was Frank Pierce. Holy crap! His shaved head had a bandage on it.
“You, too?” I said.
“What?” he said, “You think I’m going to let a bunch of gamers outgrow me? Guess again.”
I was trapped. There was no way I was going to get past Frank. He was still pretty much the same size he’d always been, but that was pretty damn big. I really had no choice. “Alright, I’ll tell you,” I said turning to Derek.
Then I told him everything, all about the bet with Peter, the trick I played on him in the locker room and the malware I planted on his computer. I explained to him I hadn’t realized what I’d done until the night of the Halloween party.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea what I was doing, and I’ll do anything to make up for it.”
Derek reached down with his giant hands and I felt his iron grip as he placed them on either side of my body and effortlessly picked me up. Man, I could remember when I used to beat him at arm wrestling. But look at him fucking now. More muscle in his arm than I had in my whole fucking body. Oh, god, I thought, this is it. I’m dead. A brilliant young life cut short. And I had so much to offer.
Then he hugged me, pulling me tight against those huge, hard pecs of his. “Thank you,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.” Then he set me down. “If it wasn’t for you I’d still be that pathetic lump of a gamer, instead of this.” He spread his thick bulging arms wide, displaying his magnificent muscle inundated torso. He bounced his magnificent pecs and made his hard bulging abs pop from his stomach. Holy crap, he looked so fucking powerful, my mouth went dry. I was so fucking hard now, in a minute I was going to blow. “And I owe it all to you,” he said.
Then Mark reached down and took my hand, practically crushing it when he shook it. “Thank you, Brandon” he said. “I think you’re brilliant.”
Well, I was. That was an established scientific fact, but…
Even Nick shook my hand. “I’m having the operation too,” he said. “Pretty soon I’ll be big as these guys and I can’t wait.”
I couldn’t believe it. These guys had been brainwashed—not to mention sliced and diced—and they were happy about it. Go figure.
“Well, I’m glad everything worked out then,” I said. “But maybe we should wipe the hard drive, you know, before I help anyone else. It is scientifically possible to have too much of a good thing.”
“Yeah, we will,” said Derek, “in a few minutes.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Have a seat,” he said, and suddenly I felt his powerful hands grip my shoulders with an irresistible strength and force me to sit on one of the benches where he held me in place.
“What are you doing?” I asked, panicking again.
“Getting you to watch that video,” he said. He nodded at Nick and Nick turned the computer screen toward me.
“But, but…” I started.
“After all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do to do the same for you.”
YIKES! “No, really, that’s ok,” I said, closing my eyes tight. “I’m happy being adorable little me. I don’t need to be supersized.”
“We have to,” said Derek. “You know about us. You’re the only outsider who does. We don’t want this broadcast around. We could have a lot of problems over it.”
“I won’t say anything,” I promised.
“You’ll be less likely to once you have as much to lose as the rest of us. Now, open your eyes,” said Derek, “or I’ll have Mark hold them open.”
“I don’t want my brain cut open,” I protested. “It might affect my dazzlingly brilliant mind.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” said Mark. “He knocks you out, and when you wake up it’s done. You won’t even notice. The worst part is getting your head shaved.”
“Ok, there you go,” I said “Bald is not my look,” I said, tossing my gorgeous blond locks.
“Come on now, open your eyes,” said Derek. “And eventually I did. I mean, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed forever. It just wasn’t scientifically possible.
The video they had me watch was series of muscle morphs by this guy named “O”, a muscle artist I knew and admired, extremely hot stuff. How well Derek knew me. He chose something I couldn’t help but watch. It lasted about ten minutes, and when it was done, true to their words, they wiped the hard drive.
On my way home I told myself it wouldn’t work on me. I already had a great appreciation for muscle. Those subliminally implanted thoughts were already running around in my head, but my brain interpreted them differently from those others guys. I would be ok.
And I managed to believe that until I got home, looked in the mirror and saw the world’s skinniest guy looking back out at me. Sure I had a breathtaking face and fantastic hair, but otherwise I looked so small and pathetic. Crap. What was wrong with me? I’d never cared how big I was before. I had no problem being an average height and weight—and incredibly cute. Why did I suddenly and desperately need to be huge? I tried to ignore those thoughts, to tell myself they were artificially implanted in my brain and that they were not real. But every time I saw my reflection, my feebly thin body bugged the shit out of me.
And going to school made it worse. Derek just continued getting bigger. It was insane. He knew exactly what I was going through, but instead of trying to make it better, he went out of his way to make it worse. The day after my programming he wore one of his older altered shirts to lunch and just exploded out of it in front of Peter and me. Holy shit, he was mammoth! Look at him standing there with fucking shreds of cloth hanging from those giant traps, across those heaving basketball-sized pecs and those bulging, cut, segmented abs. And his arms, Christ, they were bigger than some of the freshmen.
His display sent Peter racing for the bathroom, and if this had been last week I’d have been running right along side him, but not now. I was just sitting there thinking what a wimpy stick-boy I was.
“Come here, runt,” said Derek.
I stood up. Crap, I just couldn’t resist him. He stood there looking down at me from seven inches above, and he was so fucking wide and thick, he dwarfed me. Didn’t we used to be the same size? But now I was lost in his shadow, and I almost got dizzy looking up at him.
“Let me see your arm,” he said.
I held it up for him, but he just shook his head. “That’s not what I mean, Tiny. Flex.”
Almost like I robot I obeyed him flexing my arm. What I had almost didn’t qualify as a bump.
He laughed. “That’s not an arm,” he said. “This is an arm.” He bent his elbow and I watched a mountain explode out of his upper arm, a heaving, bugling mass of pure power, wrapped in veins and looking hard as steel. Holy crap, you could probably fit fifty of my tiny little bumps into his bicep alone. “Now this is what a real man should look like,” he said ginning down at me.
All I could do was stare.
“Remember this?” he said grabbing the seventy pound metal chair that John Dixon had bent all that time ago. The back still had that uncomfortable angel in it, and no one ever used it. “I remember how it freaked me when Dixon did this,” he said. “Back when I was puny like you. Watch me now.”
Derek got this evil looking grin on his face, grabbed the chair back and started to squeeze it with just his fingers. His forearms bulged out, showing every huge corded muscle starkly defined beneath his skin, and holy crap, I could see the metal denting beneath his fingers, leaving deep divots underneath each digit. I wondered if his fingerprints were now permanently imprinted in there, stamped there by the insane pressure he seemed to be able to apply with just his fingers. Then I heard a pop, pop, pop as each of his mammoth fingers began bursting through the chair back.
“Holy Fuck,” I said.
“You like that?” he said. “Then watch this.”
He began to push inward, and the metal chair back began to bend. A low audible creaking filled the air as his giant pecs flexed and I watched the sturdy chair back fold completely in on itself.
“Yes, oh yes,” he said, like he was getting off on bending the chair. I looked down and sure enough, his mammoth cock was at full mast. Man there was no missing that monster sticking straight down his pants half way to his knee. Fuck, all those hormones were working all kinds of miracles.
“Man, I remember when I could hardly move one of these,” he said, grinning as he applied more pressure and the seat began buckling under his powerful hands as if it were cheap tin. Then he quickly mashed each leg together and twisted them into a tangle, grinning all the time, loving each second of the destruction he was causing with his huge, powerful limbs. With a clatter he let the shapeless mass of warped metal fall to the ground. Damn, he was barley even breathing hard.
“You want to try, Puny?” he said. And I felt puny, just like nothing compared to the muscle mountain I was standing next to. I was such a wimpy loser. “Why are you doing this to me?” I whimpered.
“It’s for your own good,” he said. “You’re one of us, now. Stop fighting it.”
“I’m not one of you,” I said. “My glorious brain is still intact.”
“It’s not just the operation that made us what we are, Brandon,” he said. “I’ve been back to see the doctor. He said he’s never seen growth like mine. He said it must be my obsessive attitude that’s responsible, and that’s you. You gave that to me, and now we’ve given it to you. You’re obsessed with becoming huge; I can tell you are, just like the rest of us. Give in. You’ll love being massive. It’s amazing. I promise you.”
And then he flexed again showing me his inhumanly powerful bicep and suddenly I realized just how much I wanted one just like it. It was almost a physical force pulling me, like when you get hungry or horny. Then Peter came back and the spell was broken.
“What the hell happened to the chair?” he asked looking down at the twisted wreck.
“The chair? Is here something wrong with it?” asked Derek.
“Yeah, never mind,” said Peter.
We all sat down again, and I kept thinking about what Derek had said, but I realized didn’t want to give in. I knew the desire to be huge was just inside my head. It was fake, not real, and I wasn’t going to have unnecessary brain surgery over something that wasn’t real.
But Derek didn’t give up. He kept at me and he kept growing. The day of our talk, his shoulders had been almost as broad as our table, then a few days later they were just as broad as the table, and then they got boarder than the table. His pecs kept pushing out further and further over our eating surface until Peter and I had to scrunch to find room. And he kept getting taller, too. Up and up he grew. He was at least six eight by now. It was unreal. Pretty soon he’d be so fucking big he wouldn’t fit at the table with me and Peter anymore. And at every opportunity he would stand next to me looking down, putting me in the shadow of his monstrous chest, flexing his ridiculously huge biceps next to my face. His fucking upper arms were almost twice as big as my head. One he even walked behind me and lifted me and my seventy pound chair up with one arm like we were nothing. What fucking power. And I wanted to be just like him, to feel that kind of strength in my arms. I tried to tell myself that desire wasn’t real, but still I couldn’t stand to look at my own skinny arms anymore. I felt like an ant, no, less than an ant. Looking at Derek as he slowly became a muscle giant depressed me, more and more everyday.
And when Peter wasn’t around, he’d say, “Give into it, runt. You know you want to.”
That was another thing; he seemed to completely forget my name. I was now Runt, Tiny, Pipsqueak, or Puny. It was killing me.
One day, Peter stopped me in the hall and asked, “What is it with you and Derek? Is he coming on to you or what?”
I laughed. “Come on, Peter, you know me better than that. With his body, would he really have to try that hard?”
“Then, what’s the deal?”
I opened my mouth to tell him, but I couldn’t. Who knew what Derek would do to him if I did? “It’s nothing,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”
And Derek wasn’t the only one growing. The other guys were getting huge, too. Mark had to be pushing seven feet. I don’t think most people noticed just how freaking muscular he was getting. All that height helped obscure those huge pecs and those enormous arms, and ridiculously broad shoulders. Plus he didn’t let his shirts get tight, the way Derek did. He just kept buying them bigger and bigger. But I was a practiced muscle watcher, so I had a really good idea what was forming under his continually expanding shirts. And it was unbelievably hot how he was now constantly ducking his head and twisting slightly sideways to get through doors.
Jim had only recently returned to school, but already he had changed substantially. All his pudge was gone. His frame still looked thick but it wasn’t fat anymore. And his shortness had been pretty much cured; he was nearly as tall as me now.
Frank, he was the most amazing of all. I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had already been a bodybuilder, but he had just exploded with mass practically over night. He shot up to about six two and bulked up to about three hundred and fifty pounds of rolling, bulging muscle. He and Derek must have the same ideas about fashion, because Frank’s shirts got so skimpy, it was almost as though he wasn’t wearing one. His giant back spread out through the huge arm holes on either side of him, practically doubling his body width. Each of his intercostals was clearly visible wherever he went. You could even see the edge of his brick wall abs. That is if your eyes got past those mega arms. They were so thick with muscle you wondered how he could bend them. And his frown was gone. Everywhere he went now, he had this giant grin on his face.
And all these guys, every time I saw them, would wave and say, “Hey Puny!” and then move on. It was a freaking conspiracy!
And then one day Nick wasn’t in school. I freaked. I knew in a couple of days he would be back, and then he’d start to change, slowly growing large and powerful right in front of my eyes. I didn’t think I could stand to see it happen again, while I just watched, skinny and pathetic.
I must have looked really bad at lunch, because both Derek and Peter were throwing worried glances at me.
“Dude, everything ok?” asked Peter.
Before I could answer, Derek said,” I know what’s wrong with him. And I know just how to help him.” But he didn’t say anymore.
That night when I got home, I felt providence was showing me what to do. The mail had just delivered the cashier’s check from my savings bond, and moments later I was reading an email from Derek. He’d sent me the e brochure from the brain guy. The cost of the operation was almost exactly the amount I had just received in the mail. Almost before I knew what I was doing I was calling up the brain guy and making an appointment.
All I could think was I’d better still be cute when I’m seven feet tall!