Inspired by the Mattel action figures of the 1970s! Strange things happen to Big Jim, Big Jack and Big Josh on their annual trip to Joshua Tree to catch the meteor shower.
Big Jim looked at Big Jack.
“Holy Shit! Yours are, too!”
“Big Josh,” Big Jack hollered. “Stop tearing up the desert and get yer Big Ass over here!”
Big Josh trotted down the slope. It sounded like a herd of elephants.
“What’s up, fellas?” he asked, laughing. “Isn’t it a fucking great day to be alive?”
Big Jim and Big Jack agreed to that statement but Big Jim tried to keep his Big Buddies on task.
“Look at our eyes, Big Josh,” he commanded. “See anything different?”
Big Josh looked at Big Jim, then at Big Jack, and then double-checked both.
“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” he said, shrugging his massive shoulders.
Big Jack rolled his eyes.
“What color are they, ya Big Dummy!”
Big Josh looked again.
“Oh!” he said. “OK! Wasn’t sure what you meant. They’re purple, of course, just like always.”
This time it was Big Jim’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Mine are green,” he said. “Always have been.”
“Mine are amber,” Big Jack said. “Unusual color, people always notice them. Not purple.”
Big Josh frowned. Why were they giving him the third degree about their eyes? Fuck, he didn’t notice eye-color. Or if he did instantly forgot. He was too busy looking at muscles and dicks!
“Ahem,” Big Jim said. “Just what color are your eyes, you Big Lummox?”
Big Josh laughed.
“Why, Blue, of course, just like the sky above.”
Big Jim and Big Jack peered at him.
“Not any more they’re not,” Big Jack declared.
“Elizabeth Taylor would be jealous,” Big Jim agreed. “Purple as purple can be!”
“What the fuck?” Big Josh exclaimed.
Big Jim shook his head.
“Something weird happened last night.”
Big Josh nodded.
“I’ll say! I felt like fucking Superman when I got up this morning! Did you see that Big Boulder I was tossing around? That thing must have weighed a couple hundred pounds! Those were hella good brownies!”
Big Jack just shook his head.
“Big Son, you clearly don’t know your boulders. That one weighed 500 pounds at least,” he said. “Ain’t no brownie on Earth capable of doubling your strength over-night!”
Big Jim was distracted.
He was busy flexing his arms.
Damned if they didn’t look 24 inches. Cold!
“Big Dudes, lemme ask you something,” Big Jim said. “Do I look bigger?”
Big Josh grinned.
“You look hotter’n fuck, you Big Fucker,” Big Josh said.
Big Jack just chuckled.
“What he’s trying to say is ‘Hell, yeah, you do look bigger!’”
Big Jim nodded.
“You know, I wanna try something and Big Josh you’re wearing the perfect outfit.”
Big Josh arched an eyebrow.
“Go for it!”
Big Jim took one big hand, looped it through the leather strap that crossed Big Josh’s thick hairy chest, and lifted. Big Josh’s size 14EEE boots were six inches off the ground!
“Whoa Ho Ho!” Big Josh exclaimed. “Look at me, fellas, I’m flying!”
Big Jim set his friend back on the ground.
“And if I’m not mistaken,” he said. “You’re about 40 pounds heavier than you were last night. Wouldn’t you think, Big Jack?”
Big Jack looked Big Josh up and down, licking his lips.
“I think you got that right, Big Jim,” Big Jack said. “He’s one big Fucker! Of course, looks like you gained about the same amount.”
Big Jim looked down at his arms again.
“I think you’re right.”
Big Jack decided to try out something of his own.
He flipped into a handstand, easy as you please, something he hadn’t managed to do since his gymnastics days back in high school.
Then he stretched one arm out to the side.
“Whoa,” Big Josh said. “Look at this shit!”
And then Big Jack started doing one-handed push-ups.
“Okay, okay, enough already,” Big Jim said when Big Jack hit 100. “You’re making me sea-sick.”
The three men looked at each other.
“Ya know,” Big Josh said. “I’m feeling mighty hungry.”
“Like hungry enough to eat a horse?” Big Jack asked.
“Or maybe a house?” Big Jim offered.
Big Josh tugged on his excellent beard. Damned if it didn’t look brighter and shinier and manlier than ever!
“I think I could devour everything in the truck in about five minutes,” he said. “But that wouldn’t leave anything for you guys.”
Big Jim scratched his hairy chest. Damned if the fur wasn’t blacker and thicker and manlier than ever!
“I think that means…”
Big Jack absentmindedly rubbed his huge anaconda. It hadn’t gone down at all since he woke up. Damned if the thing wasn’t longer and thicker and veinier than ever.
“It’s settled then,” he said. “Time to head back to the city.”
“Where we can find some more food,” Big Josh said.
“Where we can find some clothes that fit,” Big Jim added. “Because I guess them thar ain’t gonna cut it. Or not for long.”
They packed the truck and high-tailed it back to the city.
The ride back to Palm Springs from Twentynine Palms was Rough Going.
Big Jim’s vintage 30 y.o. diesel-powered red-and-cream Chevy Suburban, which could easily accommodate eight or nine people, no longer seemed so big. In fact, he and Big Jack (who always called shotgun) were rubbing shoulders somewhat uncomfortably.
It didn’t help that Big Jim was shirtless (the two he tried on at their camp burst their seams when he pulled them over his ox-like shoulders) and barefoot (his feet were two or three sizes bigger than they had been previously) and his monster cock, massive glutes, and thunder thighs were barely contained by his boxer briefs.
At least these guys stretch, he told himself.
And, Goddammit, he was already fucking starving again.
“Big Josh,” he said over the back seat, “Hand me another one of those sandwiches, Big Man.”
Big Josh always called the back seat on account of it being easier to reach the food and the beer (Big Josh was never the designated driver, an arrangement he quite preferred!)
“Uh,” Big Josh began. “Guys, I hate to say it but I ate the rest of the food before we hit Yucca Valley.”
Big Jim and Big Jack cursed up a blue streak!
“Floor it,” Big Jack said. “Ain’t nobody out here at this time on Sunday morning.”
So there they were going 110 miles per hour down S.R. 62 headed for Morongo Valley. Big Jim’s pie plate sized hands were seriously denting the steering wheel of the Big SUV, he was that eager to get home and get fed.
Woot! Woot! Woot! Woot!
Big Jim looked and, goddammit, blue lights flashing in the rearview mirror.
“Big Josh,” he said. “Ima take this outta yer hide when we get home. Assuming we do get home!”
Big Joe Martinez, San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Office, had been parked in the discreet pull-off, rubbing his eyes and looking forward to the end of his overnight shift, when the big old Suburban streaked past in a red-and-cream blur.
“I don’t think so, Motherfucker,” Big Joe said aloud, nosing the Dodge Charger onto the road, flipping on the blue lights, and hitting the pedal to the metal.
Mercifully enough, the Suburban slowed down and pulled over as soon as Big Joe came up behind them.
Big Joe walked up to the Big Truck and the Big Man at the steering wheel rolled down the window.
“Holy Fuck,” Big Joe said, looking at the massive man in the driver’s seat.
Now here’s the thing: Big Joe Martinez was a Big Man himself.
Just 26 years old, he had played ball in high school and at Cal Poly. He was 6’4” and 275 pounds of ripped muscle, same size (he always reminded himself) as that old school wrestler, Bill Goldberg. He secretly yearned to be professional bodybuilder but he had his mom and grandmother and two maiden aunts and two younger sisters (one in college, one in high school) to help support, his asshole old man having run off when Big Joe was 14 and his baby sister was just two years old.
The hot, hunky, handsome guy sitting at the steering wheel must have outweighed him by at least 75 pounds and the two other guys in the truck were nearly as big! And all three of them were nearly naked.
Without being asked, Big Jim handed Big Joe his license and registration. The young officer looked it over. Meanwhile, Big Jim looked at the young police officer and tried to think cold, cold, cold thoughts. Which was hard to do because the Big Stud was totally fucking hot!
Not only was he tall and clearly built like a brick shit house, he was devastatingly handsome, with jet black hair, dark brown eyes, prominent eyebrows, and a face that belonged to an Aztec warrior prince. His only facial hair was a pencil-thin mustache that would have done Cesar Romero proud (and it was in fact Big Joe’s pride and joy, since aside from his pits and pubes he was otherwise hairless!) His name tag might say “J. Martinez” but he clearly had a very hefty dose of Indio in his ancestry.
Don’t spring a boner, don’t spring a boner, don’t spring a boner, Big Jim said to himself. Icebergs, glaciers, arctic chill, anacondas, Aztec warriors…
“I will need you gentlemen to step out of the vehicle,” Big Joe said.
Big Jim, Big Jack, and Big Josh climbed out of the Suburban.
“Holy Fuck,” Big Joe said under his breath.
These studs were fucking enormous, as tall as he was, as built as he was, only every one of them outweighed him by at least 50 pounds. He felt his 9-inch power tool stirring in his regulation pants.
“You know,” he said, after looking them up and down. “I’m not even going to ask where you were going in such a hurry. I’m not even going to ask why the three of you are nearly naked on a Sunday morning. The main thing I want to know is: Where are your shoes? You know it’s illegal to drive barefoot in California, right?”
All three of them started talking at once.
“You see officer…”
“It’s like this…”
“We were camping…”
“And then something really weird…”
Big Joe held up a Big Hand.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear. You went out into the desert and got shit-faced and some burro came along and ate your clothes and your shoes, right?”
The three Big Men just gaped.
“Officer Martinez, that’s exactly what happened,” Big Jim said.
Big Jack and Big Josh nodded.
“Before I let you go,” Big Joe continued. “I will need to inspect your vehicle. From what I can tell, it’s older than all of us and I want to make sure you didn’t rattle something loose when you were heading down that hill like a bat outta hell.”
He directed the men to get back into the Suburban and follow him to the next pull off, which turned out to be in a little pocket declivity that shielded it from view from the road.
Once there, Big Joe stepped out of his vehicle, as did Big Jim and the others.
Slowly, carefully, Big Joe removed his Sheriff Deputy’s hat and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Just so you’ll know,” he said. “I’m officially off duty. And what I really want to know is how you fuckers got to be so fucking big!”
Big Jim, Big Jack, and Big Josh were instantly hard, their boners threatening to break through their shorts.
Big Joe pulled off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his pants. His 9x7 cock sprung free.
“Wotta fucking beauty,” Big Jim said.
“I need me some of that,” Big Jack agreed.
“Fucking A,” Big Josh added.
Big Jim went to his knees and took Big Joe’s dick in his mouth. It took about 30 seconds to get the Big Stud off, especially with Big Jack standing behind the kid, supporting him and playing with his big brown nipples.
Big Jim stood up and kissed the hot cop full on the mouth.
“Kid,” he said. “You are one hot fucking motherfucker. But the guys and I are literally starving. Wanna come back to my place for breakfast?”
They followed Big Joe’s cruiser to a modest but well-kept mobile home just a mile away, then Big Joe joined them in the Suburban. He and Big Josh barely fit in the back seat! But he brought with him a dozen bagels and a Big Jar of Peanut butter!
“Kid, you’re a life saver,” Big Josh said, reaching for the bagels.
“It’s Joe, not Kid,” Big Joe said, passing the bagels to the front seat. “And I know what you’ve been doing. Big Jim filled me in! No bagels for you!”
Big Josh chuckled.
“How bout a Big Kiss instead, Big Joe?”
The two hot men made out in the back seat for 15 minutes before they broke the lip-lock and came up for air.
“Hey, Big Jim,” Big Josh said. “I had an idea. I think we ought to head to my place instead of yours.”
Big Jim scratched his jaw. Damned if he didn’t have a 5 o’clock shadow going and it was barely mid-morning.
“Why’s that, Big Josh?”
Big Josh squeezed the closest of Big Joe’s 30-inch quads.
“Well, not that I have any designs on this Big Guy,” he said. “But my house is the one with the freezer full of meat, the sewing machine, and a sewing room full of fabric to make us some new clothes. We’re gonna need some at some point, if only to go buy some more food!”
So Big Jim aimed the suburban towards Big Josh’s place in the Movie Colony instead of his own in Warm Sands. The three Big Men tended to bounce back and forth between the two places, Big Jack – neat freak that he was—preferring to keep his Garden Villas condo to himself.
As soon as Big Jim pulled into the driveway, Big Josh hopped out to shut the gate and ushered the Big Men into his house.
“Damn, Big Man,” Big Joe said, looking around. “Independently wealthy much?”
Big Josh just shrugged his mountainous shoulders.
“Big Josh is a tech guru,” Big Jim pointed out. “He invented the BearFinder app about 15 seconds after apps became a thing.”
“And then a couple of years ago sold it,” Big Jack. “For a lot of money!”
Big Joe let out a low whistle.
“Well, that explains the house but it doesn’t explain why you motherfuckers are still growing!”
Big Jim, Big Jack, and Big Josh looked at each other.
The kid – uh, Big Joe—was right!
It was clear that each of them had put on another 10-15 pounds of muscle in the half hour it had taken to drive from Morongo Valley to Palm Springs!
“Eat first,” Big Josh said. “Then we’ll figure it out!”
“First, we eat,” Big Josh said, pulling out a giant bag of chips and multiple containers of sour cream dip and salsa.
Big Jack and Big Jim devoured them in about five minutes – Big Joe looked on in horror, half afraid the Big Men were going to eat him, too!
Meanwhile, Big Josh slapped four huge steaks down on his built-in grill, stuffed four huge potatoes into the microwave, and started on the salad, handing a butcher knife and six big tomatoes and three big cucumbers to Big Joe.
“You slice,” he said. “While I get the other ingredients together and make the dressing.”
Half an hour later the four Big Men were feasting on protein and carbs, washing it all down a robust Malbec and sparkling water (actually, sin gas for Big Jim, who never acquired a taste for bubbly water). Big Josh had a home-made pineapple upside down cake for dessert, which Big Joe looked at askance.
“How’d’ja think I got big in the first place, Big Fella?” Big Josh asked with a laugh.
When they were done…
“Leave the plates, I’ll get them in a bit,” Big Josh said. “Time to head for the sewing room. We need to measure.”
Fortunately, Big Josh’s sewing room was the size of two or three regular bedrooms or they wouldn’t have fit.
First he weighed them.
Big Jim: 375 pounds!
“Holy Fuck,” Big Jim said. “That’s 75 pounds more than yesterday.”
Then it was Big Jack’s turn: 360 pounds.
“Damn,” he said. “80 pounds in one day?”
Big Josh stepped on the scales next.
“350? Fuck me! Last I checked I was 260!”
Big Joe hung back. Next to these brutes he felt like a widdul gurl!
“C’mon, Big Stud, might as well check you out, too,” Big Josh said. “For some reason I have a feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of sharing!”
Big Joe stood on the scale.
Just as he expected.
“That’s a fucking helluva lot of muscle for someone whose body fat is clearly waaaaay under 10%!” Big Jim pointed out.
Big Joe looked at the giant in front of him. They were looking at each other eye-to-eye but Big Jim’s chest was nearly as wide as Big Joe’s mile-wide shoulders.
“And exactly 100 pounds less than you, Big Daddy!” Big Joe said. “And about 25 pounds more than when I met you less than two hours ago, if I’m any judge!”
That’s all it took. The lust dripping on Big Joe’s words had all four of them instantaneously hard!
“C’mere, Big Son,” Big Jim, scooping Big Joe up in his arms. Big Joe wrapped his 23-inch arms around Big Jim’s 30-inch neck, his Big Quads around Big Jim’s cobbled 36-inch waist, and worked on vacuuming Big Jim’s tongue out of his beautiful hypermasculine face.
Big Jack and Big Josh gave each other a look and got down to business. They were well-accustomed to taking turns.
The fucking went on for a long time, mostly because all four of them needed it and wanted it, and they wanted it from all of their buddies. Big Jim fucked Big Joe while Big Jack fucked Big Josh, then they switched. And switched again. It went on for a long time!
When it was done…
Big Jim, Big Jack, and Big Josh were all 10 pounds heavier than when they started.
Big Joe was 30 pounds heavier.
And his eyes glowed—purple!
When they stopped, Big Josh looked the Big Men over.
“I don’t know about making clothes,” he said. “At the rate we’re going, anything I make now is going to be too small by the time I finish making it.”
Big Jim pondered.
“Maybe we should order in?”
Big Josh shook his head.
“Maybe tomorrow or the next day,” he said. “I have enough meat, bread, and veggies on hand to keep us going for a couple of days, even at this rate.”
Big Josh, when you got right down to it, was a bit of a hoarder, although he blamed it all on a taste for the apocalyptic dystopian Science Fiction he’d been reading since he was a kid.
“I guess I should apologize for giving you so much shit about your ‘survivalist’ leanings,” Big Jack said. “It’s sure coming in handy now!”
Big Josh arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, yes you should,” he said primly – then burst out laughing.
Just then a giant rumble issued forth from Big Joe’s carved-marble mid-section.
“Uh, fellas,” he said. “I think it’s time…”
For the next 24 hours, the Big Men ate and fucked.
In the kitchen.
In one of Big Josh’s bedrooms.
In the living room.
By the pool.
In the pool.
Occasionally they would fall asleep.
Occasionally they would head to the sewing room.
By noon on Monday they were all over 400 pounds, none of it fat, and Big Jim was closing in on 500 pounds.
“Big Men,” Josh said, finally. “I hate to break it to you but we’re about out of food.”
Big Jack stepped up to the plate.
“Call Gordon’s Food Service,” he said. “I know the manager from back when we both lived in Indy. He’ll fix us up.”
An hour later a big delivery truck showed up in front of Big Josh’s house.
The doorbell rang and Big Josh opened the door.
Big Josh was staring at the back of a tall (like the rest of them, he appeared to be exactly 6’4”!), skinny young man in Gordon’s Red & Gray uniform.
“Looks like that’s our delivery,” Big Josh said, in his now ridiculously deep voice.
The young man turned to face him, took one look at Big Josh’s more than four feet wide shoulders and more than 80-inch chest and…
Big Josh caught him on the way down, then tucked him under his arm like he was a kitten – the kid, whose name appeared to be “Jeff,” couldn’t have weighed more than 175 pounds – and gently placed him on one of the long Roger & Chris sofas that decorated his living room.
“Fellas, I think we’re going to have to do the unloading ourselves,” he said. “Time to try out those loin cloths I made for us!”
An hour later the Big Men had finished unloading the delivery truck. The whole time “Jeff,” assuming that was his name, snored away on Big Josh’s couch.
Once they were finally done, Big Josh decided that the young cutie had had enough of a nap.
“C’mon, Li’l Buddy,” he said, tapping the young’uns handsome, stubbled face. “Wakey-wakey.”
Jeff woke with a start.
His eyes widened.
“Jesus,” he exclaimed. “You’re on big motherfucker, aren’t you?”
Then he looked around the room.
Every single one of them had arms bigger than his waist, in the case of the biggest one a LOT bigger than his waist.
“You can call me ‘Big Josh,’” said his host, sticking out a hand the size of a hub-cap.
Jeff wasn’t particularly BIG but he was tall and he had long, slender hands, long, slender feet, and the sort of big dick that often seems like it is standard equipment for tall skinny white boys.
“Uh, I’m Jeff,” he said. “Who the hell are you guys?”
The Big Men introduced themselves.
“Big Josh, Big Jack and I have been friends for years now,” Big Jim said. “We just met Big Joe yesterday.”
Big Joe was absently rubbing his crotch. Much as he liked muscle, he also had a thing for tall skinny white boys who were just as smooth as himself, and Jeff was that. Aside from his facial stubble, he was clearly hairless as a Chihuahua.
“I think you better call someone at Gordon’s to come pick up your truck,” Big Josh said.
“Oh, shit,” Jeff said. “I gotta get outta here. They’re gonna be going crazy!”
He went to stand up – and went all woozy!
Big Jim was the one who steadied him this time.
“I don’t know what it is,” Jeff babbled. “So much muscle, so fucking huge!”
Big Jack gave the others a glance.
“Is it just my imagination or is he having a somewhat unusual reaction?”
Big Joe took a big breath.
“You know,” he said. “I wouldn’t swear to it but I think something has amped our pheromones off the charts. I thought I just needed a shower but I’m beginning to think the four of us smell like the muscle equivalent of a whorehouse.”
Big Jim laughed.
“And I think we have a little musclewhore here, don’t you?”
He sat Jeff on the couch and leaned over him. When Jeff looked up, all he could see was muscle and fur.
“You like this Big Muscle, Li’l Buddy?”
He started pawing at his clothes.
“Here,” Big Jim said. “Let me help you with that.”
He ripped Jeff’s shirt off.
Big Josh rolled his eyes, then grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter.
“Gordon’s? Yeah, Josh Cunningham here. Your driver Jeff delivered our order and then he had a fainting spell. Yeah, beats me. Maybe too much time in the sun today? Yeah, yeah. He’s resting and we’re keeping an eye on him. My pal Jack is an MD. Send someone by to pick up the truck, okay? Yeah, right, that’s it.”
Jeff had pushed his pants down while Big Josh was on the phone, his thick 10-inch dick springing free.
Big Jim backed up so everyone could have a better view.
“I’ll do the honors this time,” Big Joe said. “If it’s amenable to the rest of you?”
Later that evening…
The five Big Men were sitting around the pool.
Well, Big Jim, Big Jack, Big Josh, and Big Joe were sitting.
Big Jeff had passed the 300-pound mark about an hour earlier. He was sound asleep, cradled in Big Jim’s arms, silently sucking on Big Jim’s thumb-sized tit.
“He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?” Big Jim said to no one in particular.
Big Jack, Big Josh, and Big Joe all nodded. They were all over 500 pounds by that time and Big Jim had hit the 600-pound mark about the same time Big Jeff hit 300 pounds.
“He’s a stud muffin all right,” Big Joe said.
“Cute as a kitten,” Big Jack added.
“Fucking A,” Big Josh allowed. “Those purple eyes sure do look pretty!”
As soon as Big Josh said the word “purple,” the purple light was back!
And slowly descending from the sky in a purple haze were three enormous men, all of them pushing 7 feet tall and easily twice the size of Big Jim, Big Jack, Big Josh, or Big Joe, much less Big Jeff.
“What the hell?” Big Jim exclaimed.
“Oh my fucking God!” Big Jack expounded.
“Well, Glory Be!” Big Josh chimed in.
“I fucking knew it!” Big Joe chortled. “It had to be space aliens!”
The biggest of the three men gave Big Joe a glance.
“Really? ‘Aliens,’ is it. Don’t you find that term somewhat pejorative?”
Big Joe’s eyes bulged.
The guy who looked like Adonis or Apollo had a James Earl Jones deep voice and a standard Southern California accent.
“I’m Jor-Lon,” he said. “And these are my companions, Jerr-Dan and Joss-Whee.”
Aside from being huge and gorgeous, the three men didn’t look much alike. Jor-Lon could have doubled as Chris Hemsworth’s gigantic Viking brother, all blond hair and blue eyes. Jerr-Dan looked classically Polynesian, with straight black hair, brown eyes with a slight epicanthic fold, and perfectly even-toned golden brown skin. Whereas Joss-Whee looked like a Prince of Wakanda, coal-black skin, classically African features, and a shaved head.
“We’re from Jaunia Prime,” Jerr-Dan continued. “And before you ask, yes, we’re human. Our ancestors came from Earth to settle Jaunia a thousand years ago.”
Big Jim, Big Jack, and Big Josh gaped.
Big Jeff continued sucking on Big Jim’s tit.
Big Joe nodded appreciatively.
“OK, that’s three obvious questions answered,” he said. “The next one is…”
Joss-Whee chuckled, a sound rather like a landslide or, if you prefer, an avalanche.
“A thousand years in your past or a thousand years in our past?” he asked. “Does it really matter?”
Big Joe shook his head.
“I guess it doesn’t,” he agreed. “Not really.”
Big Jim cleared his throat.
“So why are you here?” he asked.
“Medical experimentation?” Big Jack inquired.
“Harvesting body parts?” Big Josh cackled.
“Anal probes?” Big Joe sounded excited at the prospect!
Jor-Lon rolled his eyes.
“They’re gorgeous, I’ll give you that,” he said, glancing at Jerr-Dan and Joss-Whee. “But wotta bunch o’ wiseacres.”
Jerr-Dan snapped his fingers and the four Big Men, with Big Jeff in Big Jim’s arms, stood up.
“We’re recruiting, obviously,” he said. “From time to time we have found it is useful to have new genetic material from the Home World.”
“So the question is: Do you want to accompany us to Jaunia Prime where you live in luxury surrounded by gigantic gay men who will help you grow to our size…”
“Or Bigger,” Jor-Lon interjected.
“…and spend the rest of your lives fucking each other’s brains out,” Joss-Whee continued.
“While contributing to art and culture and the Defense of the Realm?” Jerr-Dan concluded.
The four men looked at each other, then they all started talking.
“But what about my family…?”
“Don’t you think we ought to ask Big Jeff…?”
“Oh, believe me, I am more than ready to get off this rock!”
The next day…
Officer Joe Martinez jerked awake.
He was in his police cruiser, parked in the pullover off S.R. 62. A streak of Red-and-Cream flashed by but he was going off shift in 10 minutes so fuck that. If he hit the road now he ought to getting to Mamacita’s house just as his abuelita was putting her world-class huevos rancheros on the table. The 6’4, 275-pound aspiring bodybuilder needed to feed the machine on a regular basis if he wanted to get really huge!
He paid little attention to the news item on the local radio station:
Palm Springs P.D. report having no clues regarding the whereabouts of four Palm Springs men who were last seen headed to Joshua Tree National Monument a week ago. The four men are James Pasternak, John Averitt, Joshua Cunningham, and Jeffrey Mossberger. Averitt, a physician at Desert Regional Medical Center, and Mossberger, a delivery truck driver for Gordon’s Food Service, did not report to work on Monday. Friends and colleagues of Pasternak and Cunningham, who both work from home, report no contact with either man during the past week.