CAFE Blues 5 (musc)
by Jaypat
Ok, it’s the night before my big break. In the morning I leave for the clinic, where hopefully my little problem will be solved forever. Do I dream about getting huge? Of course not. I dream about the Reverend chasing me around with a hack saw shouting, “Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish.” And then I wake up. I close my eyes again and there’s the Reverend sharpening his saw. All night long it went on. I kept tossing and turning, waking up again and again. It didn’t matter where my dreams took me, the Reverend would be somewhere nearby with Trusty—yes, in on of my fevered imaginings the Reverend actually named his saw Trusty. I know. I’m a sick, sick person.
Finally, I’d had enough of “sleeping” so I got up and got dressed. I guess I should have been grouchy as hell after the night I’d had but I wasn’t. I was in a great mood. I kept wondering how big I was going to get. I couldn’t wait to find out.
It was a little before dawn, and I decided I would just leave now before anyone else woke up. Shepherd told me I wouldn’t need anything at the clinic. They had everything there. So, I packed a full suitcase. Yes, I have trust issues. I wonder if that’s where the Trusty thing came from. Anyway I figured I’d just stop by the kitchen, grab a little something to eat and vamoose. For some reason, can’t imagine why, I seriously didn’t want to see any member of my family before I left.
Of course, it didn’t quite go that way. I had just poured myself a second bowl of Corn Pops—I know. It’s a kid’s cereal, but I loved them. I just couldn’t get enough of that sugary excellence. Unfortunately, it turned out to be my downfall. Oh my crunchy sweet ones, how could you betray me?
Just as I was sitting down to a second bowl, I heard a slow, shuffling step coming down the hall. “Great,” I thought, “I woke up Grandma.” Of course, of all the people I could have woken, I suppose she was the least objectionable. Anyway, Grandma wasn’t going to keep me from my sugar rush. I continued shoveling the wonderfully sweet golden nuggets into my mouth. I began to worry that they might not have Corn Pops at the clinic. In fact, I kind of doubted it. They probably kept a real close eye on your diet, and I bet the sweet, corny perfection that was my favorite cereal was not on the menu. Maybe I could sneak some in. There was room in my suitcase. I’d never gone even two days without my Corn Pops before. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t suffer some kind of withdrawal.
But the great cereal dilemma was driven from my mind, when the bent figure finally hobbled into the kitchen. And much to my surprise and dismay, it wasn’t my grandma. It was my brother. He was just moving like my Grandma, obviously suffering from a severe case of post workout stiffness--another moment for me to savor. He looked over at me and this weird sort of gasping groan emanated from his lips.
“Ahhhhhhh. I think I’m dying,” he said.
“That’s right,” I said. “I can see the angel of death creeping up behind you. Oops, no, my mistake. He’s just stopping by to use the bathroom.”
“It’s not funny,” he said. “I think there’s really something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said, helping him to a chair, “well, physically anyway.”
“Ha ha ha. You’re going to be really funny at my funeral.”
“Probably, but then I have a good seventy or eighty years to work on my material.” And then I explained the price you pay for working muscles that weren’t used to being worked.
“You mean it’s going to be like this every time I work out?”
“Just for the first couple of weeks.”
“I’m not sure I can take it,” he said all hunched over.
“Then just ease into it slowly until your body adjusts to the workouts.”
“Is that what you did?”
“No. I did exactly what you did. I worked every part of my body as hard as I could first time out.”
“What happened?”
“I almost didn’t make it out of bed at all that first day. So, you’re already doing better than me.”
He kind of looked squinty eyed at me from across the table for a minute. Then he said, “Why’d you have to grow?”
“What?”
“It was my turn to be the big brother.”
“Dude, you are so not the big brother.”
“I would be if you didn’t grow.”
“It takes more than a little height to make a big brother.”
Nigel started slowly nodding his head, as if pondering a great truth. “You’re right,” he finally said, “You need muscle, too.”
Yeesh. “Just don’t worry about it, Nigel.” I got up from my chair and pulled on my jacket.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“You’re going to grow again, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t care how much you grow; I’m still going to get bigger than you.”
“Sure,” I said walking to the door.
“I will and then I’ll be able to pick you up with one hand.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but there’s one thing you’re going to have to do first.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Get out of that chair.”
I paused just long enough to watch Nigel wince with pain as he unsuccessfully tried to put weight on his legs, and then, grinning despite myself, I walked out the door and made my way to the bus stop. And as I stood there, I realized I’d forgotten to pack the box of Corn pops. Crap! I almost went back, but then I thought of Nigel who was still probably rooted to the chair and I decided it wasn’t worth it.
I didn’t have to wait long before the city bus pulled up and opened its doors for me. As I stood by the coin box pulling the fair out of my pocket, I could see the bus driver looking sideways at me.
“You’re awfully young to be riding the bus by yourself at so early in the morning,” he said.
“I’m not that young,” I said. “I’m fifteen.”
“Oh, you’re a midget,” he said. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Oh brother, why did he have to go there? “I’m not a midget,” I said in short even tones. Midgets are four foot ten or shorter. I’m five two.”
“Whatever,” he said laughing. And then he jammed his foot on the accelerator sending me flying down the aisle. “Hahaha midgets,” I heard him chortle. “You gotta love em.”
The rest of the ride to the clinic was pretty uneventful. I had to change busses twice, but in the end I found myself standing in front of the address Shepherd had given me. And what did this miraculous clinic look like? Not much, just another nondescript office building. There wasn’t even any kind of sign out front.
It was way earlier than eight o’clock and I wondered if I should go in now or wait. I looked around. There was nothing else in the area, just a bunch of other office buildings. And since I generally found the outside of empty office buildings really boring, I decided to go in.
The door was locked but there was a doorbell. I rang it and a second later I heard a buzz and the click of a door unlocking. I went in and froze on the spot. There was a small hallway and a security station, but holy crap…the security guard. He was huge. No, he went beyond huge. He was the second biggest guy I’d ever seen. He almost blocked the hallway. He was sitting two feet behind the desk because there was no way he could fit sitting at the desk. You see some security guards who intentionally wear tight uniforms, so they can show off their muscles. This guy’s uniform was about as tight fitting as it could get, but I doubted he had a choice. I couldn’t believe anyone made uniforms in his size. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall. Those two biceps straining his short shirt sleeves must be at least twenty-two inchers. Two mammoth pecs the size of bowling balls bullied his shirt buttons; his shoulders were about as wide as I was tall, and his neck was a freakin’ telephone pole.
“Can I help you, young man?” he asked.
I was tempted to say, “Nice body. Did you get that here?” But I decided on a far more conservative approach. “Ah…Yeah,” I said. “I’m supposed to check in today, but I’m…ah…a little early. Is that ok?” Maybe I erred a little too much on the wimpy side, but walking up to him was actually pretty scary.
“Name?” he said looking over at a monitor on his desk.
“Co—I mean Brian. Brian Peterson.” Oh crap. Suddenly I got very nervous. What if this didn’t work? What if I got caught? What if the guard got mad? If this guy just sneezed on me, I’d be in the hospital.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, much to my relief. “Hang on a mo.” Then he picked up the phone and punched a few buttons. “Brian Peterson is here,” he said, and paused while the person on the other end spoke. “I know. I know. But he’s here. What do you want me to do?” There was another pause and I wondered what was going on. “Ok,” the guard finally said, and he hung up the phone. “It’ll be just a minute,” he said. “In the meantime, empty out your pockets, please.”
I thought it was kind of an odd request, but I did it. I mean I wasn’t going to give that guy an argument. I didn’t have much on me anyway, just my wallet, some spare change and my keys. He opened my suitcase and perused the few clothes I brought with me.
“Is that it?” he asked.
“Yeah. What were you expecting?”
“You’d be surprised. Some kids try to bring in cell phones, video games, candy. I even had one kid who tried to smuggle in some breakfast cereal. Can you believe that?”
“Ha,” I said. “What a loser that kid must be.”
“Well,” he said, placing my things in a box, and pulling my suitcase behind the desk. “All this stuff is going to have to stay here. You can have it on your way out.”
At that moment I heard an ominous KA THUNK back behind the security station, followed by an electronic hum, and for the first time I noticed a giant steel door in the back wall. It looked like it should be on a vault. There was this hiss of air as it kind of disengaged from the wall and then slowly began to swing open.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
“What do you mean, what’s that? It’s the front door.”
“The front door? I’ve never seen a hospital door like that before.”
“That’s because you’ve never seen a hospital like this before,” he said. “They’re working on things that will revolutionize the future of the health care industry. Not just anyone can go in there.”
I could have pointed out that I was living proof that that was not necessarily true, but it would have been monumentally stupid for me to do so—so I didn’t.
When the huge door finally came to a stop, I tried to peer past the guard to see what was behind it. I couldn’t really make anything out except that someone was coming through. I figured it might be another guy as impressive as the guard or maybe some mad scientist dude, but it was the last thing I expected: a girl, a really cute girl. She must have been in her early twenties. She was a couple of inches taller than me, had shoulder length blond hair, and a dazzling figure showcased by a tailored business suit. She came to the security station and said, “Brian?”
It took me a second to remember she was talking to me. “Yeah?”
“Nice to meet you,” she said extending her hand. I took it and shook it quickly. “I’m Cindy. Won’t you come with me?”
“Sure,” I said. “See ya,” I said turning to the guard.
“Probably not,” he replied. “I usually work the night shift.” He checked his watch. “I’m going home in about an hour. That’s when the big guard comes in.”
The big guard? I was still pondering that concept as I followed Cindy through the vault-like door, and it slowly swung shut behind us. Well, there was no turning back now.
The inside of the clinic looked pretty ordinary for a health care facility. Cindy gestured around and said, “Well, here we are.” I sort of looked around and nodded my head and waited for her to continue. “I’m not really sure what to tell you, Brian. We weren’t going to admit you.”
“What?” I balked. If they sent me home, that’d be it. I’d never get another chance.
“You were supposed to have been contacted. It’s Thanksgiving week,” she said, “and most of the staff has it off. It was decided we didn’t have the personnel to accommodate you. We’re really working with a skeleton crew. I’ve only been at the clinic a month myself. I’m not even part of the regular staff. I’m here on a research grant. The only reason I’m the one admitting you, is… well, there’s no one else to do it.”
“You can’t send me home,” I pleaded.
“Well,” she said, obviously considering it, “you’re here, and I take it your parents have already left.”
“Errr…Yeah, they left.”
She sighed and shook her head. “We have a few patients that are staying through the holiday. We should be able to handle just one more.”
“Thank you,” I said, relief washing through me.
“Follow me,” she said leading me down a corridor.
“Don’t I have to do some paperwork or fill out some forms?”
“No, all that was handled on line. Your doctor sent us your complete medical records.”
“He did?” Since my doctor had no idea I was doing this, she must mean Shepherd. How did Shepherd get my medical records? Or did he just make something up? Wasn’t that dangerous? Once again I got the feeling that everything wasn’t quite kosher—I mean besides the fact that I was lying through my teeth sneaking into an experimental clinic pretending to be someone else—I’m talking about something really not kosher.
“On the right is the Preemie Ward,” said Cindy.
I looked through the door and into an empty hospital ward with about twenty beds in it. “Preemie?”
“That’s what we call the ward where we keep patients who are in the preliminary stages of treatment. It’s empty now. Since Thanksgiving is so close, we haven’t taken any new patients. It’s where you’d be staying if you’d checked in at any other time. As it is, we’ll have to lump you in over there, she said pointing to another door. I couldn’t help but notice all the doors, although open, were made of heavy duty industrial steel. They looked like they could withstand a pretty big explosion.
“This is the Stage One Ward,” she said leading me through the other door. “This is where you’ll be staying.” It was another ward like the first except this one only had about eight beds and it wasn’t empty. There were three kids in there, all about my size and they actually looked a little older than me, and all wearing these long hospital gowns. “This is Steve, Tommy and Ollie.”
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey,” said Tommy. He looked friendly enough.
“S’up?” said Steve. This guy was giving off some serious attitude.
And Ollie, the third one, the one with the slightest build and big, round glasses, just sort of stared at me with this frightened look and didn’t say anything.
“Guys, this is Brian. He’ll be bunking in here with you.”
“In here? But he’s a Preemie!” said Steve.
“Sorry, can’t be helped,” said Cindy. “Reduced staff.”
“Oh man!” said Steve.
“Well, I’ll leave you boys to get acquainted,” said Cindy. “I have to get back. I’m really behind schedule as it is. Steve, why don’t you give Brian a tour.” Then without waiting for a response, Cindy took off and left me with the three stooges.
“As if,” said Steve. Then he sat himself down on hid bed crossed his arms and scowled at me. Not sure what else to do, I started looking for a bed. Steve must have noticed what I was doing cause he said, “Don’t get too comfortable. You won’t be here long.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t let Steve bother you,” said Tommy. “He’s just having a T surge.”
“I am not,” said Steve.
“A T surge?”
“Testosterone surge, it’s one of the effects of the treatment here. It can make you pretty hard to live with.”
“I am not T surging!” said Steve. “I just don’t want him to get his hopes up. Most Preemies don’t make it through the first day.”
“What happens to them?” I asked, suddenly a little nervous.
“They wash out,” said Steve. “They get sent home. They’re not cut out for the treatment, just like you. I can tell just by looking at you. You’ll be out of here by noon.”
“Definitely T surging,” said Tommy.
“Hit the button! Hit the button!” squeaked the littlest guy, who must be Ollie.
“Calm down, Ollie,” said Tommy. “He’s just T surging, not transitioning.”
I looked around and spotted a big red button right by the door. It kind of looked like one of those emergency shut off buttons big machines have. “What’s the button?”
“We hit the button if one of us starts transitioning to Stage Two. Sometimes you get T surging before a transition. But Ollie’s just over reacting. He freaks easy.”
“Hit the button! Hit the button!” squealed Ollie.
“Shut up Ollie,” said Steve. “I’d think I’d know if I were transitioning.”
“Why?” I asked. “What does the button do?”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Steve. “I don’t think anyone’s going to transition in the couple of hours you’re going to be here.”
“Hit the god damn button!” came this deep growling voice. We all stopped to look over at Ollie, whose hand reflexively went to his throat. I guess the voice had been a surprise to him, too. And no wonder, it had sounded nothing like his voice had a second ago. He looked a little different, too. His wrists seemed thicker and when he dropped his hand, his neck seemed thicker and his Adam’s apple looked like it had tripled in size. At first, he had this scared look on his face. But as I watched it slowly morphed into one of shocked surprise and then wonder. He looked down, and we all followed his gaze. Underneath his hospital gown, right at the crotch we could see something flipping around, something way too big to belong to a guy Ollie’s size.
“Fuck!” yelled Steve. “Ollie’s going Stage Two!”
Without thinking I ran for the button and hit it. A loud warning claxon went off, a red light above the door began flashing and the giant steel door slammed shut with a clang, sealing us in.
“What the fuck did you just do?” yelled Steve.
“I hit the button,” I said, confused. Wasn’t I supposed to?
“Not that button, you moron, the one in the hall. Now we’re trapped in here with him!”
“Ohhhhhh,” Ollie started moaning. “This feels so incredible,” came the deep rasping voice from the little pipsqueak. The other two backed away from him until they were up against the wall.
“What?” I cried. “What’s going on?”
Then Ollie reached under his hospital gown and pulled out what had to be the biggest dick I’d ever seen. It had to be a foot long and as thick around as one of those energy drink cans. And the balls that were hanging below it were the size of lemons. How the hell did someone like him grow anything like those?
“We are so screwed,” said Steve.
“Literarily,” said Tommy.
And then Ollie began to stroke it. His hand almost didn’t fit all the way around it. He kept stroking it and stroking it, his chest heaving, his head thrown back, his pelvis thrust forward, and all the time moaning. Suddenly he started stroking faster; his breath became rapid, and his moaning took on a fevered pitch. I was pretty sure I knew what happened next, and I prepared myself to be doused in his spunk. The moment came, his breath seemed to catch in his throat, and then he let out a thunderous roar. I saw his monster member spasming, but—I’m not sure how to describe it—it was like all the energy and power of the orgasm was running back up into him instead of shooting out. And he shook and shuttered from the force of his climax erupting back into his body. AH! he was gasping, AH! AH! AHHHHHHH! And then he clenched his fists and held them out in front of him. I began to hear this gurgling noise, as I noticed his hands swelling, growing larger and thicker. His forearms were getting bigger around. I could see his biceps and triceps slowly taking shape on his pipe-cleaner thin upper arms
“Gonna get bigger now,” he moaned. “so much bigger.” And I didn’t doubt it. Under his hospital gown, I could see swelling deltoids blossoming out of his skeletal shoulders. His chest ballooned out, pulling the flimsy hospital gown tight around it. His body completely lost its boney appearance as his back expanded and his thighs grew meaty. And then the change seemed to slow. But as soon as it did, Ollie’s had shot right back to that mammoth dick of his and began stroking it for all he was worth. In a matter of seconds he had worked himself up to another climax. Once again I saw the tremor start in his engorged dick and build into a quake as it traveled upwards into his frame. “Yes!” he shouted as large, powerful looking traps began erupting from his back. His shoulders expanded to the size of grapefruits, his chest swelled into a couple of cantaloupes and veins started growing like vines over his swelling, bulging softball-like biceps. He let out a grunt as a sudden surge hit him and… Holy Crap! He got taller! I began to hear the unmistakable snap snap snap of threads breaking, as his back widened, and his new muscles pulsed and strained his hospital gown to its limits, and then things seemed to stall again.
Ollie’s hand shot straight back to his monster cock, which had somehow managed to stay hard throughout the entire process, and began stroking again. Only this time his attitude seemed entirely different. It no longer seemed motivated simply by physical pleasure. There was an aggressive purpose to what he was doing. He was stroking to grow. But the way he was moaning, you knew it had to feel pretty good, too. And when this climax came, the result was explosive.
I heard the popping again followed by the sound of cloth ripping as his rock hard striated muscles began tearing out of his feeble garment. His shoulders went first. Magnificent globes of granite-like flesh blew apart the thin fabric, completely decimating the short sleeves, and reveling a pair of mighty biceps which were bulging obscenely even as his arms hung at his side. Rents began opening up all across the front of the stressed gown, tearing wider and longer, slowly revealing the powerful sinew bulging beneath it. There was a sudden surge and a heaving, massive chest burst forth from the tattered gown. Below it the fabric was torn apart, revealing an incredibly ripped eight pack. In an instant the remains of his hospital gown, now reduced to a shredded rag, fell to the ground, while he rose up and up and up, gaining height while his bulging muscles continued to swell with mass.
His growing stopped. He must have grown around a foot taller; he was around six feet tall now. Before his growth, he looked like he might have weighed around seventy pounds soaking wet. Now, had to weigh at least two twenty. He was so thick with muscle and so lean, he looked like a champion bodybuilder ready for a show.
His hand went right back to his cock, which fit him a lot better now than it had a couple of minutes ago, and he began stroking again. I expected another growth spurt, but when he finished jerking, he came in the usual way, and we had to dodge to avoid getting hit.
“That was awesome!” he roared. The looking at us, he grinned in a most unpleasant way. “Now,” he said, “which one of you lucky girls gets to be my first bitch?”
“What?” I gasped.
“It’s the hormones,” said Tommy. “When we transition, they go out of control. Most guys completely lose it. They’ll fuck anything.”
Great. The last thing I wanted was to become Ollie’s fuck toy. Steve and I skirted around one of the beds. Tommy went in the opposite direction, taking cover behind a bed on the other side of the room.
“How about you, Steve?” said Ollie. “I’ve always wanted you, you know, you with your lean strong stomach and your tight ass. I bet you didn’t even know I was gay, did you?”
Steve rapidly shook his head.
“Well, I am. I was too puny to do anything about it before, but not now!” And as he said this he reached over and grabbed the bed that was between us and tossed it aside. This was a steel framed institutional bed, but he had thrown it like it was made out of cardboard. His display of strength was truly terrifying. I think it even surprised him. He paused for a second and clenched his fists tight, causing his powerful arms to bugle up. He admired them, smiling. “Fuck yeah,” he said. “FUCK yeah.”
He took a step toward us and said, “Ready, Steve?”
Steve looked over at me and said, “You are so fucking lucky. Since you locked us in here, it really should be you, but… You are so fucking lucky.” Then Steve reached under his hospital gown and pulled out his own dick. And as I watched, it began swelling longer and thicker in his hands. “Yup,” he said, “I’m transitioning, too. And you know something? He was right. It does feel pretty fucking awesome. You’d better get clear.” And then he started stroking his lengthening member. I didn’t need any further encouragement. I made a dash for the other side of the room, over by Tommy.
Ollie watched Steve stroke his foot long cock the way a starving man watches a feast. In a second he was on his knees taking Steve’s engorged member into his mouth. Steve turned so his back was to use and then started screaming then, really screaming. “Oh my God! How can you do that with your tongue? Oh God! Oh God! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Then we watched the back blow out of Steve’s hospital gown as his lats expanded into massive slabs of steel-like muscle. “More,” came Steve’s deepening voice. “More God damn it!” His triceps explode into mighty horseshoes, and his shoulders ballooned out into granite globes. His hospital gown peeled away from his burgeoning muscular form like skin from a ripened fruit. This wasn’t happening in stages like it did for Ollie. This was one long glut of growth. I’m guessing it had something to do with the constant stimulation Ollie was providing. But what ever the cause, Steve’s back just kept getting thicker, every striated muscle pressing out against his skin as it grew larger and more powerful looking. And his shoulders just kept getting broader. His legs were bulking out and growing longer at the same time. “AHHHHHHHH!” yelled Steve, and he started pounding the wall. And as his arms grew thicker with layer upon layer of powerful sinew, the wall began to dent where he hit it. And each thump dented it more, until he had knocked a hole in it. “I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING TO FUCKING EXPLODE!” he yelled. And he did, explode with growth that is. In a second he suddenly shot up so he was just as huge as Ollie. Then Ollie disengaged himself from Steve’s dick and the two of them were all over each other. Feeling, rubbing, licking, sucking, they tumbled to the floor and rolled around, entwined. Each of them seemed to want desperately to devour the other one. In seconds they began to cum, both of them. I expected it to subside after the first few seconds of orgasm, but it didn’t. They both just kept coming and coming and coming, as though they were in one constant state of orgasm. And it didn’t’ seem to slow them at all. If anything it seemed to inflame their passions.
I began to wonder how long these guys could keep going, if they would ever slow down or get tired, when suddenly the door opened, and two huge hands grabbed Tommy and me and pulled us out through the door. Almost before I realized it, I was out of the room, the door was closed again, and I was looking up at the guard from the front door. Cindy was standing behind him. Now I knew why the guards had to be so big; they had to keep the transitioning kids under control.
“You two alright?” he asked. We both nodded.
“Are they going to be ok?” I asked, nodding back toward the Stage One ward.
“They’ll be just fine by dinner time,” said Cindy.
“You mean they’re going to…? All day?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” said Cindy.
“Whoa.” I wasn’t sure weather to be excited or scared.
“Well, Brian,” said Cindy, “you’re having quite an eventful first day. Why don’t the two of you go down to the cafeteria and get yourselves some breakfast. Afterwards, Doctor Spooner would like to see you.”
Doctor Spooner? That had to be Sky’s dad. I guess the process was going to begin now. I wanted to grow more than anything, but I wasn’t sure about these side effects. I decided to put it out of my mind. Growing was the most important thing. I could deal with anything else later.
To be continued?