The Tale of Dorian Zahn (muscle theft age regression)
by fucil99
Dorian was a guy possessed with a power that a god had given him to him, his grandfather Deiter Zahn. He could do anything he wanted with his power. He could help people; he could hurt people. It was his to govern, his to control.
He was always the backwash of the social line of recognition, the last guy standing in the line at gym, waiting head hung down humiliated to see if he would be a shirt or a no shirt and knowing full well none of the teams really wanted him at all. He was the proverbial weakest link.
But the proverbial rules were about to change. He was there holding his grandfather's hand as the last words left his lips. They were simplistic in nature yet profound in action. They were the last words of the greatest warlock to have ever lived and they were directed at Dorian his favorite grandson. Him! Dorian felt the words incorporate deep into his soul. He had no choice. They dominated reality and conquered it. They took from him reality's nuances and replaced them with an awareness never before seen by a mortal man. A declaration of independence never written down by any man, a declaration of war against enemies long gone from him and those who would no doubt come. He was now the premiere center of a universe controlled by whim and magic. His universe was about to spill over into our universe and nothing could stop it. Nothing!
Dorian held fast his dying grandfather's hand, the transfer of the power was like the transferring of incorporation of souls. His mind became suddenly aware of all the things both good and bad that his grandfather had done. Deep dark secrets came to the light of a fresh untarnished mind's shine and dimmed it ever so. It was like a brownout of the power to a city. It dimmed but regained its innocent ground and shine, tarnished but bright again. But within the tarnish that now was his was the truth as well and it cleansed the tarnish and coated it in a varnish that allowed only his thoughts to slide over past memories and hates. His fresh young mind ruled his thoughts governed now by powers unspeakable and unheard of.
Dorian would leave this deathbed very much alive and very powerful as well!
Dorian hated the next few days. They were the funeral days humans find so needed, the time when you let the body rot on a box for viewing before it's given back to where it came from, back to the earth as food for the new generation of souls yet unborn.
Dorian faced and got over such days as many young men have done in their lives, and soon it was time to go back to school. The time for mourning was over; the time for testing his grandfather's gift had just begun.
When you're one of the most disliked guys at the school as Dorian was, picking the first to pay for your hate was easy--too easy--anyone would have done it. He chose the first guy he saw. Since guys were the cruelest to him, they were prime targets! They above all others had made it hard for him. All his real friends were sympathetic girls who thanks to genetics allowed them the feelings guys seem to lack and that feeling was empathy, a rare component, allowed to very few guys indeed. Dorian was given empathy and feelings and recognition; three things few young men have at all.
Their worlds are dominated by testosterone governed by its mind-changing necessities, its primal survival instincts. Sex and having it govern most young guys' minds to mate is primal and to do it young an instinct more than a requirement it was and is a survival thing to pass on quick your seed while you have time to take its outcome to maturity while your still young and strong enough to take your seed's out come to maturity. Man is governed by simplistic requirements. That tell it to do what ever it takes to gain the foothold on the next generation to gain the hand or at least mate with the best candidate to carry on your seed. It dominates all factions of our world. It hovers over our souls and tells us how to act how to think and how to react to the world around us.
Dorian was the guy who got Empathy as a gift at birth, a rarity among men, a step up from the primal savages that were being born even to this day. He had always had it. His grandfather knew this of him and so he trusted him most of the family's powers. But he was wrong or too quick with his decision. Hate also ruled Dorian's world. True hate. Not preconceived but delivered hate given him against his will, taken out on him given to him during his still early years. A crucial factor in his young life and a dominating factor as well. He was picked on since he was in elementary school and a deep feeling of hate formulated in his psyche even back then. The seeds of hate would be the seeds he gave the next generation, not the seed of his loins. His own seed would go on but not before he made sure the seeds they planted in his head grew first. Soon the young guys at Peadmont High would know of them. They would not know it was him but they would know things had changed drastically for the hocks of Peadmont High.
Hate is a good word for anger. It's simple to say and easy to do. And from it spawns so much. It's like a germ out of control. It generates upon itself a self-replicating response of uncontrollable seething frustration that festers within its recipient--Hate. And Hate's best friend is Revenge. Beware of revenge in any form because revenge is callousness to the fullest. It demands only retribution and forgoes fortitude and conviction as evil cousins to itself.
And that's what the power had done for Dorian; it had given all these forbearers of destruction a ground to stand on, a birth place for their children, a safe harbor of Hate's own seeds.
Tim Walker would be the first to pay for his insolence, at least that's the way Dorian saw it. It was his attitude that he would pay for, his contempt towards others. He always thought he was better then the average guy, and before Dieter's death, Dorian was just that maybe even below average to Tim. He had made it quite clear that he considered Dorian to be less than average to everyone else as well. Now Tim was after all blessed in due rights. He was handsome where Dorian was just passable. He was strong where Dorian was actually less then average. He was athletic and well built, where Dorian was to say the least weak. (To be honest, pathetic would have fit his description better.)
Tim was 6'2" and an easy 220 in weight, but he was so well developed most would not have known his actual weight as that much. He carried the pounds well and concealed the weight in well-developed muscles and he worked hard to keep it that way. He was handsome. He was beyond just handsome; he was beautiful in form and face for a guy. He was awesome.
Well Deiter's powers surged in the much frailer Dorian's body aching for release. They wanted used to be free to do as he wished them to do. Dorian was ready to use them and they were ready to be used. Separate entities enjoying the same host body and yet wanting more. They--he--saw Tim in the hallway of the crowded school and he--they--made a beeline towards Tim. It was nonstop and unstoppable. People moved without their consent out of their way as they--he--went to Tim. And then as the crowd gathered, Dorian looked way up into Tim's bright tantalizing sky blue eyes. Tim's face, that of Adonis' himself, smiled down rather mockingly at little Dorian's 5'4" 110 pound visage and blew an audible "HUMMMPH" sound from his nostrils as if he was suddenly annoyed by Dorian's closeness to him.
Dorian lowered his eyes as if in respect of the god-like boy-man's actions. He was actually taking note from foot to head all that he was right then, all that would be so different very soon. Dorian lifted a smiling face to face Tim's handsome, confused slightly-dimpled face staring downwards at this insolent weak pathetic excuse of a guy. Tim's dimples showed as a broad smile came over his face he had never been confronted by a weakling till now but he was going to enjoy showing all around them that he was indeed superior at least physically to this weaker link in evolution's chain. The game was Dorian's actually and he would allow this forefront action as a jest of sorts.
Dorian smiled back his own deep dimples showed his face as that of a guy with absolutely no fear. He was about to trade physiques and he would very soon be the guy looking down on a formerly larger foe. To hell with tradition! To hell with the status quo! That was yesterday; this was today. This was now. This was the time for things like this to happen. Dorian giggled and lifted his arm and stretched out his hand and forefinger and touched Tim's tip of his fine sloped button nose with a gentle soft unexpected touch and he began the change. Dorian backed away from his adversary and smiled and again took note of him, and what he was dressed like, looked like, and reacted to his actions. Tim was dressed in tight fitting faded light blue Levi's. He was wearing his classic striped muscle tee shirt and as always his Nike high tops.
Dorian brought his right hand into the air while he moved it didn't freeze everyone but it did stop them where they were standing they all still moved but the attention was now drawn to the two standing young men. The closer ones moved away and all gathered for the act as if choreographed to do so. No one worried about what they were doing or thought about anything but this event that was just a smidgen of the amount of power Dorian now had.
Dorian wanted full attention to this event as it was then. He would in a click of Times Clock change everyone but Tim's memories of who Tim used to be. He would be fully aware while the rest would treat him as they did Dorian--as an outcast weakling, a sub human, or at least that's the way he felt they thought of him and did think of him now.
Dorian stepped back and like the rest got in a good position to watch a stud become a dud. Tim wanted to so fuck this weak boy over, to kick his goddamn ass but for some reason he was frozen in his tracks. A god-like jock dressed to show every good point so clearly. His jeans clung so tight to well-developed calves and thick well-muscled thighs and an ass to die for a perfect bubble butt of a jock's adorned his body.
The front sported the distinct out line of the crowning family jewels so to speak. A monster of a dick ruled your view of his crotch and to look away was an act of jealousy or contempt but everyone knew he was well hung to say the least. And the package from God was a set of thick well-toned abs, the eight-pack of them ruled his midsection and above those thick pecs, the likes of which only statues from Greece would have, these adorned his torso. Broad shoulders of a classic well-trained athlete and star quarterback allowed arms so thick that genetics could not possibly be the only reason for their size to hang freely. His biceps were easily 20 inches and forearms of a man's thick with a guy's coating of hair and man-sized led you to thick brazen hands of a man.
Dorian looked up and waved at him. Tim seemed perplexed at first. Why was this wimp so brave? Why didn't he at least see what was coming what was in store for him? Why did he seem so unafraid? Dorian's smile increased to that of a guy who had just won tons of money or something. It was intense as he began to concentrate on Tim. Tim's body convulsed like he had been shocked by something. He felt dizzy and stepped back in a stumble fashion to get away from this little guy. His mind was full of fear suddenly like he was going to be hurt by this pathetic little representation of a guy. Dorian looked more boy than man and he was the constant brunt of a lot of his own torment towards little guys so why this sudden fear of this impudent little man-child? Tim felt wave after wave of something unexplainable coursing through his fine well-muscled body. It felt like it was being drained or something. He could feel it as it was leaving his body like it was being sucked away from his. He could feel it in his arms, legs and chest. His whole body was being stripped from him. The pain was intense like growing pains in reverse, like time was receding backwards for him. The room was slowly but surely getting larger around him. The lockers were getting taller! Oh no!! HE WAS GETTING SMALLER!!!
Fear took over as Tim backed farther away from this abomination, from Hell's own door. An evil grin on its face told of his own demise. His eyes glowed a deep iridescent red like a harpy feeding itself through them and they were concentrated solely on him. Tim looked at the eyes. The evilness was intense but focused and he looked down at his own body to see what they were seeing! He was beginning to lose weight and fast his tight fitted faded jeans had room now and so did his tee shirt. It was beginning to look loose as well. He was shrinking in height. As he watched, panic took over. His survival instincts told his body to run away but he could not fight this foe. This foe was too powerful and it was winning. RUN!!!!! Was the only thought in his head now and he did just that as best as he could. He turned and now holding jeans that fit tightly he began to run, his very boots defying him. As he went, his feet found too much room now and they were cumbersome on him now and hindered his forward motion but he ran anyway as fast as his shrinking legs could take him.
Tim could feel the now empty ass of the jeans back's fabric touching his now thinner back of his upper thighs as he ran the crotch much lower chafed between his mid thighs. Now his straps of his muscle tee hung to his elbow on his left arm that held fast the jeans that would surely trip him if he let go of them. He was screaming now like a little girl as he rounded the corner and looked back he could no longer see Dorian anymore. He stopped and took note of his condition and was shocked at what he saw. He felt the changing stop as soon as he was out of the evil apparition's sight but the damage had been done. He was a frail skinny version of his former self, smaller than those boys he so liked to pick on. Tim was ridiculous looking now. Where a man of a boy had stood, now just the boy was left. Where muscles had hugged and stretched the fabric of his jeans skinny tiny short legs now shared the folded excess fabric with unfilled air. His muscle tee's strap was draped loosely over his bony forearm at elbow level and the other threatened to fall itself. He was no longer even taller then the lockers anymore; they loomed higher then even his arms' reach. Tim looked around as the crowd that followed him gathered around him and looked down in both shock and curiosity but no sympathy was in any face there.
A much stronger and larger Dorian came around the corner and the crowd saw him and parted from Tim as if to allow him a view to the kill so to speak only his prey would live to breath another day. Dorian's own clothes now felt like they would burst for sure. The pants were baggy to begin with but now were tight. With Tim's old size, they strained under his size of his muscular legs. The shirt buttons succumbed to their added dimensions and had popped off exposing for the world to see a set of abs and pecs meant for the bodybuilding circuit. The waist of Dorian's pants was ripped and no button remained to hold them up; now, a well-built body did that for them. He was taller as well and the pants he had on looked almost comical now but no one in their right mind would have said that or even hinted it to him.
They were as shocked as Tim was and just as afraid of Dorian as Tim was. Dorian walked over to Tim who was now crying freely and very much ashamed at himself and what he was now.
"I need your clothes little boy." Dorian said and smiled and shook a handsome face strong angular jaw bones held by a thick neck began to just laugh as the crowd backed away not wanting to share in Tim's fate. The scene was surreal like a movie in a way. From a distance, it would have been the perfect scene: a large hall students all backed away from a has-been bully dressed in clothes he would never fill again. He looked like a grade school boy with a goatee dressed in his dad's faded work jeans and favorite muscle tee. Above him staring down at the boy man on his knees crying was Dorian the god like man now fully muscled and very intimidating, a triumph of Tim's stolen hard-worked muscles.
"Get up BOY!" Dorian said even his voice had deepened in tone. It matched his new build.
"WHY??? WHA... WA... WHY... D-DI DID YOU DO THIS TO MEE???? *SOB... SOB*" Tim asked crying like a guy with his now childlike voice he said it in.
Dorian paid him no mind and no respect. He reached down and grabbed the waistband of Tim's jeans and hoisted the now lightweight boy off the ground and carried him with ease to a near by bathroom. The crowded hallway was now filled with teachers, security guards and students all in total shock and awe and all afraid to do or say anything against Dorian.
To them things like this just don't happen in real life, they just didn't, at least that was the general consensus for the group. A thing like this has three effects on a group: the first is of course speechlessness, the second is of course AWE, then next is self-preservation and that mood was being well taken right then.
Dorian knew all of this was going on around him. Guns were actually drawn and aimed at him but fearfully aimed at best more liable to hit an innocent more then him. Dorian looked around still smiling and raised the pitifully weaker Tim in the air to shoulder level by the belt Tim wore for show more than need just minutes ago. Tim weighed 65 lbs. now and was the size of a small ten year old in every way so it was an easy feat for Dorian to do.
Tim was so humiliated by this as he watched the lockers and many faces swirl by him as his body was twirled around as if in display. His eyes caught and sometime held the view of old buddies who he would no doubt lose as friends now, and rivals and kids he had picked on with the help of the buddies that did nothing to help him now.
Dorian looked at the gunned men and said these words to them, "You're too young to play with guns boys!" The guys with the guns, the security guards, all felt the words as a physical reaction more than words each in their own way as the words became action and the action became feeling. The crowd backed away from the three guards and stared in awe as each seemed to just start to shrink in size and stature, all frozen in fear as it happened each very much afraid to afraid to even react. Even Dorian enjoyed this little show as full-grown young guys in their mid to late twenties all got younger looking and their fine bodies seemed to succumb to Time's evil regression. Each became younger even than the students they were there to protect. They would soon need the protection of these kids as they once called them. Each one was a fine looking man and now they were fine looking teenagers and then their clothes began to be a little too big for them, their hands disappearing in the fabric of their shirtsleeves, the guns becoming too heavy for them to hold up now as they watched each other regress back into boys instead of men. Soon their pants were too big for them. Weighed by walkie-talkies and heavy belts, they fell all bunched up around now bare hairless knobby-kneed legs. They soon became fine looking entry level junior high kids and then elementary-schoolers and then wet little toddlers swimming in uniforms meant for adults sitting in their own fear-emptied bladders fluids, all fully aware they were still adults but now in need of diaper changes.
"Anyone else care to move against me people?" Dorian said very authoritatively. The hall backed away some of the teachers went to help the now toddler-sized guards, their guns laid useless around them, their arms still stuck in uniforms way too big for their baby boy-sized bodies. Dorian smiled and decided he better stop while he was ahead. He waved his free hand in the air and everyone in the room froze, all except him and Tim were frozen now. He spun Tim around and smiled at him. "How's today going Tim?" Dorian said with a deep rich tone to his voice in Tim's old tone. Tim now would sound like a preteen again and he was going to be just that as Dorian walked down the hall holding the sobbing little Tim up by his now much larger belt. Tim was flopped over his hands bouncing against the empty fabric of once muscle-filled jeans.