“Come on,” Perry said, standing at the door of Larry's apartment, “are you going to let me talk to David, or what? I know David didn't write that resignation letter.”
“Oh, yeah, he did. And I'm afraid it took a lot of help to get it written.” Larry pulled the door open wearing very brief white underwear and nothing else. “Please, come in. Pardon how I'm dressed. Wasn't expecting company.”
Perry's Adam's apple bobbed, his involuntary gulp almost audible as he caught the full view of this massively built bodybuilder. He thought of himself as usually quite adept at hiding his interest in handsome or very well-built men. Even though he knew he wasn't gay, he didn't want to give the impression, inadvertently, that he might be. He'd convinced himself that his interest in great looking guys was just a typical buddy thing, or the wish he had never been able to deny, that he looked like the guys that turned his head—handsomer, better built, even muscular. And well-hung wouldn't be bad, either. He'd always given extra effort to fighting his impulse to stare in the showers at the gym. Now, however, the sight of this man, or at least his reaction to it, threatened to reveal things about himself even he didn't want to know. Or did he?
He'd experience a strange kind of excitement, actually arousal, though he fought admitting it to himself, the other day when David has appeared at work looking so different. He told himself that it was just surprise felt more strongly because of the special relationship he had with David, based on one night, after several straight-up martinis after work that led to David's apartment and some passionate physical exploration together. It never had to be mentioned again. They knew, and the “buddy” bond between them had grown stronger because of it. They covered for each other when they needed to. And, since Perry was David's supervisor, they spent quite a bit of time together on projects, often had a drink together after work, played handball, and sometimes worked out together. David had the natural physique of an athlete, and built up easily, Perry couldn't help but have noticed, which only encouraged his vanity and self-confidence. If Perry didn't like him so much, he could have been very jealous. But David must have found Perry a good companion, and Perry flattered himself that someone like David wouldn't hang with anyone that would bring down his reputation. Great looking people almost always, unfair as it might be, hang together. They were both babe magnets, although Perry often suspected it was David that brought them thronging. But he knew he was no slouch. His almost black, thick straight hair, dark shadow, ability to change his facial hair within a couple of days, currently displayed in thick, wide, perfect long sideburns, and clear sapphire eyes set with dark fringes of lashes and thick, heavy eyebrows gave him a darkly handsome face. He wouldn't mind if his lips were fuller, his jaw more square, maybe a dimple in his chin, but, standing in front of any mirror, he had to concede that, for a fairly skinny dude, he was pretty much a looker. And he did have great abs.
Still, when David came in that day looking so good, so muscular and handsome, Perry had been forced to work even harder at not staring at him or fawning over him, and once, had been forced to stay seated least he reveal, by standing, the boner he'd sprung imagining being built like that, or even, for that matter, just seeing David out of that shirt. But there'd also been something odd about David, his behavior. He seemed distracted, unable to concentrate. Perry had noticed him a few times feeling his arm muscles or his chest, unaware that he was doing it. And he'd almost seemed, strangely enough, for someone as bright as David, like he hadn't been able to get all the lights turned on that day. Probably really hung over, Perry thought. But it felt like something else.
Then came the phone call the next morning. If he hadn't recognized his voice, he would not have believed it was David. He couldn't say exactly what was off, but something was—way off. And then he'd dropped off the face of the earth, and a couple days later, the letter came, scrawled in a hand that looked like he imagined David's might have looked when he was first learning to write longhand. He'd left a message at David's asking what was going on, and had received a call from this Larry saying he was just there to pick up David's stuff, and he knew that Perry was David's friend, so he was just calling to let him know David was fine. Perry had pushed and finally got an address out of this Larry, who said that if he wanted to see David, come on over. The building was in an older part of town that was slowly coming back up from the decay it had fallen into after the general flight to suburbia a generation or two ago. Artists, musicians, and others of little means and a sense of adventure were making it a more desirable address, with a bit a danger adding to the aura of the neighborhood, adventurous, seedy, colorful, and darkly hip. Perry had checked twice to make sure his BMW 745i was locked up tight, and turned fast when he heard footsteps behind him, only to see a couple, young and pierced and hanging onto each other just to keep from falling down from whatever drug was keeping them in quiet giggles. Down here, you could get away with anything. You could get huge old apartments for the price of a closet in the “better” neighborhoods. And there were clubs that rocked all night.
When the door opened a crack, and the man he assumed was Larry peeked through, showing part of a bare shoulder, Perry had instinctively backed up a step. But the guy's voice was pleasant enough when he had said, “Yeah? Perry?” Perry felt confident enough to ask what was going on with David, and become a little impatient when this guy seemed to be putting him off, after coming all the way down here. Now, as he entered the Spartan living room, his heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This guy was a fantasy of muscle, and Perry couldn't miss the size of the bulge in that minimal underwear. He could also tear him apart.
“It's cool,” Perry answered as he entered the room. “So, where is he?”
“I'll get him in a minute. You want anything to drink? A beer? Anything?”
“Okay. So, you obviously care about your buddy a lot,” Larry said from the kitchen. “I mean, to come check on him, and all.” He came back in with a beer and flopped on a big leather chair, indicating that Perry should have a seat on the sofa.
“Yeah, of course. He's a good buddy. And he was acting a little strange the last time I saw him.”
“Yeah, the stuff he was trying does that to you. But you gotta know, if you're his good buddy, that he was way into his body, so what he did, he did voluntarily.”
“And exactly what did he do? Why has he dropped out of sight?”
“Well, see, there's this stuff. New stuff. Way better than roids for putting big muscle on a guy really fast. He wanted it. Tried it, a little, which is when you saw him, and then he just pretty much went with it all the way. But it's really new, and the effects are pretty extreme. Just thought you should know that.”
“Okay …” Perry said, waiting for the rest. The combination of this guy sitting spread legged in front of him, his muscle bulging every time he lifted his arm to sip his beer and the thought of David doing whatever he was talking about, something more extreme than roids, had him excited in a way he understood all too well. But there was something so weird about the way Larry was telling him, preparing him, that made him too nervous to be getting a boner. Or maybe not. He shifted in his seat.
“Well, your buddy is pretty different, that's all. You're probably going to be a little shocked.”
“What, he didn't want people to see that he's real muscular or something?”
Just asking that question speeded up Perry's heart rate, and the faster moving blood seemed to be suddenly flooding his crotch. Being as slender as he was, he'd always had a secret fantasy about taking huge doses of steroids just to see how it felt to be one of those freaky looking muscle guys. He jacked off sometimes looking at their pictures in bodybuilding magazines. But he didn't really want that. It was just great JO fantasy stuff. At least until now.
“Oh, I don't think he'd care. It's more what other people might think. See, muscle isn't the only thing it makes grow.” He casually rubbed the bulge in his briefs. “And those aren't the only changes it causes, either. But why don't I let you see for yourself?” He got up and went to a door in the short hallway, opened it a bit, and said, “David, why don't you come on out? There's someone here to see you.”
Larry left the door ajar and came back into the living room, across the room, close to the kitchen, where he could observe Perry's reaction.
Perry turned back to the hallway, and what he saw emerge from the room shocked him so profoundly he felt like he'd just been flipped upside down on a roller coaster. At first, the figure was back lit and in shadow, but Perry could tell that this guy was so massive that walking was difficult. He threw one leg around the mass of the other, his feet spaced so far apart that balance was tricky, and he lumbered one slow step at a time to maintain it, each leg quivering as it struck the ground and the muscle tightened to carry the load. And what a load it was. The mammoth legs flared from a narrow midsection, but above the hips, the shadowy figure flared out again, bat wing sides lifting out arms that looked more like legs attached at a point where the flare reversed itself in a low pyramid bracketed by shoulders that sat at the juncture like a matched pair of bowling balls. Atop the pyramid, the head. Even in the partial shadow, Perry could tell it wore David's face.
A few more careful steps, and the monster was in the room. It was David, all right. Handsomer than ever, that golden hair, longer now, hanging around the chiseled face, that wide smile. The rest was unreal. David's pecs protruded on his chest thick and heavy and wide, laying on his rib cage with so much mass that his nipples were almost engulfed in the deep crease of their overhang. Everything about his body was as if someone had taken David, the perfect form and proportion that Perry knew, and blew him up with mass until he had become as massive as the biggest bodybuilder Perry had ever seen in his magazines, and then, for good measure, increased that mass by another ten or twenty percent. Who could tell how much? No bloat, no puffiness, just huge, massive, cut, carved, shredded, veined muscle. Perry's head felt dizzy trying to take in what he was seeing, and not just his buddy with all that freaky muscle size. David was naked, and sticking out from his crotch, jutting at a forty-five degree angle upward, was the biggest cock Perry had ever seen. It had to be almost two feet long, and thicker than his wrist. It swayed back and forth with each step, the bulbous head at mid-pec level, even at that angle. From its root, where the trunk-like base of it sat planted in the bush of dark gold hair, hung a sack so full and heavy that it swung back and forth more than halfway down David's thighs like a produce bag carrying two mangoes or papayas or huge oranges. In the speeded-up whirl of Perry's mind, the thought for an instant of the absurdity that he was looking at what he was seeing and his brain was conjuring images of fruit. Well, they weren't as big as grapefruits.
“Holy fuck …”
Once in the room, David realized who was sitting on the sofa. His smile broadened.
“Hi, Perry,” he said. He sounded like a happily surprised child. A very young one. “Hi.”
He just stood there, grinning.
“Hi, David.” Perry turned and looked at Larry, who was just watching him, smiling, amused. He looked back at this beyond human freak that was his friend. “You sure, uh, look different.”
“Huh huh,” David laughed, “yeah, I know. Look at my muscles, Perry. Look how big they are.” He raised both arms up above his head and pulled them down into a double biceps pose. They swelled into such mass that veins popped to their surface. Each arm looked nearly as big as his head. “I like my muscles, Perry. They feel really good. Do you want to feel my muscles?”
Perry didn't know what to say. He looked over at Larry. Larry shrugged. “Hey, whatever, man. It's cool. I'll just leave you guys alone for a bit.”
Perry watched Larry disappear into the kitchen and turned back to David, who was feeling his own arm, now.
“Don't you want to feel my muscles, Perry? The feel really good. I really like my muscles. Look at my cock. It's so big. Hey. I can even suck it myself. Wanna see?”
He pulled his cock toward his face and the head was right at mouth level. He sucked around the head a little, and then he looked up at Perry again, grinning.
Perry felt sick to him stomach. Pure overload. His friend was acting and talking like a five year old. He seemed more like a golden retriever than a successful executive. In fact—Perry's stomach lurched again—the executive, the babe magnet, the stud bud he knew was no longer there. But what was there, in front of him, inviting him to touch, was the most incredible fantasy of a male he'd ever seen, even in the fever of his occasionally drug induced jack-off fantasies. He felt like he would be violating a trust, betraying the friend he came to … to what? … save? Too late for that. If he grabbed him and ran, they wouldn't even get … No, he couldn't … He suddenly understood why David had disappeared. Where could he go? Who was that guy? What was that stuff? He had to answer David, though, to say something to him.
“Yeah, David. I see.” He spoke as he would to a kindergartner.
David flexed again, placing his biceps practically into Perry's face. “Larry feels my muscles all the time.”
This was all too weird. As badly as he felt, Perry knew he had to get out of there. But, not wanting to alarm this behemoth that used to be his buddy, and, oddly, powerfully curious just to see what that much muscle felt like, he reached up with both hands and felt the hard, warm mass in front of him. Whoa. He had an erection. Even with all this, it made him hard. He was just about to panic and run, as much from his own feelings as from the situation, the horror, when he saw the blur of Larry approaching him from behind and then, suddenly, a sting, like a bee, in the side of his neck. He turned to see Larry pull away a syringe, but he didn't even have time to react before the curtain fell on his consciousness.
Suddenly, Perry found himself sitting on the sofa. He swam up from the depths of unconsciousness through a thickness that felt like Jell-O, fighting to the surface of wakefulness. And yet, even when he opened his eyes and knew he was awake, he felt as though he were still fighting his way out of some thick goo in his head. He was naked. He was leaning back, and his cock was harder than he'd ever felt it—so hard it ached. His abs were covered with cum. He looked down, almost as though it were someone else's body he was waking up in. He tried to focus, but all he could wrap his head around was how horny he felt, and how sexy, sitting there. As he looked down at himself, he saw that his pecs were bigger, much bigger, wider, and thicker. His legs were bigger, too, and—he flexed an arm—his arms were more muscular. A lot more muscular. “Feel good?”
Larry sat across the room in the same chair as before. Now Perry remembered. David. The sting. He must have … Fuck. Oh, no … But it did feel good. It felt really good. He felt his pecs. He only dreamed of having muscle like this. It felt even better than he thought it would. So sexy. So masculine. So hot. He became so aroused, so fast, that he could only watch, his mouth hanging slack in dumbstruck erotic euphoria, as his cock began to spurt warm, thick, white cream, all over his stomach and groin again. Aww, fuck, it felt so good.
Then David's hand reached over from where he sat next to Perry. Perry hadn't even noticed. David rubbed the sticky, slippery cum all over Perry's stomach. “Feel good?” he parroted Larry.
Perry watched the hand on his abs. Fucking incredible abs. So cut and so hard. He looked at David. All that muscle. That huge cock. That must feel so fucking hot. His own cock was bigger, he could tell already, and he knew that the ache he felt in it was the ache of growth. He felt it in his whole body. He wanted to reach over and feel those pecs on David. Oh, God, all that thick, huge, beautiful muscle. So fucking what if David seemed like he was dumber than a cow? He was so hot. But wait. Struggling in the heavy fog in his head, a memory of needing to get out of there resurfaced. He tried to get up. God, he felt so much heavier. His arms swelled and bulged with the effort of trying to push himself up. It felt so good, the weight, the weight of the muscle on him. His cock flopped over onto his leg, and fuck, it felt big. The size of it made wave of pure erotic excitement surge over him. It was so fucking hot. But he had to get out while he could.
“I … have … to …” Jesus, it was even hard to get the words out, “… go.”
He hadn't even got to a full sitting-up position. He seemed to be moving so slowly. Everything was going so slowly. Fuck. He was so slow, and he had to …
“I don't think so, my friend,” Larry stood up and approached. “You know way too much now. And besides, you're pretty fucking handsome, and you're starting to look pretty fucking hot. Yeah, that's right,” Larry pushed him back on the sofa with one hand, “you'll make one gorgeous fuckboy, and you wouldn't want to leave your buddy, now, would you?” and, with the other, jabbed him in the stomach. He saw the syringe, but it was too late to fight it, and, in the second before he blacked out again, he realized, it felt too good to fight. He surrendered.
Is it mistaken identity? Or is something darker at work here? Whatever the case, when our main character gets sent to detention, he’s sure there’s been a mistake. The guy sitting next to him, however, sees things differently.