The Gifted Child 2 (musc)
by Jaypat
Evan had slept in the morning after his party, but I had no such luxury. Even though I was obligated to wait up until after he had retired for the evening, so I could help him get ready for bed, I was also required to be up with the sun in case he decided to rise early. He didn’t. And believe me I understood why. Obviously the drinking age wasn’t strictly enforced around here. When he had stumbled back to his room he could barely stand. Then I spent nearly an hour getting him washed and into his monogrammed silk pajamas. He was propositioning me constantly in a slurred voice, and I spent half my time just holding him off me.“You won’t be able to resist me when I’m massive,” he slurred, while he pawed at me and squeezed me at every opportunity. “But then I don’t expect you’ll want to.”
By the time he finally passed out between the sheets I was dog tired. I just made it into my bed before I passed out as well. Then it seemed like only seconds before the alarm rang, signaling me it was time to get up. I stumbled out of bed, showered, got dressed and made my way down to the kitchen for breakfast. Anton was already there sipping coffee and reading the paper.
“So, how was your first day?” he asked.
“It’s one I’m not likely to forget,” I said, thinking that this was as much as I could safely say.
“Young Master Phips is quite the rapscallion, isn’t he?”
“That’s one way of putting it. Do they always let him drink like that?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Last night when he got back to his room, he was completely snookered.”
“That’s not possible.”
“I had to undress him and I assure you he was very, very drunk.”
“Mr. Conroy,” started Anton, in a tone that told me I was going to get another lecture. “Last night’s party was attended almost exclusively by underage guests. There was no alcohol served. I, myself, saw Young Master Phips moments before he retired and I assure you he was completely sober.”
I rubbed my butt where Evan had pinched it repeatedly, and I thought for a second that Anton might be playing a joke on me, but then I remembered that Anton had no sense of humor what-so-ever. “He was sober?”
“As a stone. I expect he was merely playing one of his pranks on you.”
“Why that little… rapscallion.” I couldn’t believe it. He’d done it to me again. That was twice in one day Young Master Phips had completely taken me in. He was toying with me, completely taking advantage of my good nature.
Anton began to jabber on about the weather and the chances the Red Socks would win the pennant this year, but I wasn’t listening. All I could think of was that smug, arrogant kid and where he’d put his hands last night. I wondered why the subterfuge? Why didn’t he just come right out and order me to have sex with him? He had enough black mail material to attempt it. But I knew the answer. I would have refused him. I would have decided to cut my losses and get out. And somehow that diminutive letch had figured that out.
After breakfast I went back to my room to think things over. I realized I couldn’t treat Evan like an ordinary patient. Besides the fact that he was quite devious and manipulative, he had power over me, and he had no scruples at all about using it. I should expect only the worst kinds of behavior from him. I was going to have to tread very carefully around him, watch every word I said, and expect that nothing about him would be as it seemed. This gave him a definite advantage over me because I was naturally a very straight forward person, and I had a strong moral sense. What you saw was what you got. If I was gong to stand a chance over the next year, this might have to change—at least around Evan.
The buzzer on my wall rang which meant Young Master Phips had need of me. I collected myself and quickly made my way to his room. I knocked once, and then without waiting for an answer, entered. Evan was standing in front of his mirror flexing again, and whistling the 1812 Overture. Looking at his body I wondered if it might be somehow possible that he was comprised solely of skin and bone under that sickly blotchy skin of his, with the occasional undersized organ thrown in for good measure.
“I think I’ll wear my grey suit today,” he said without looking over at me. He seemed wide awake, alert and healthy. I thought he might at least fake a hangover, but apparently he didn’t feel the need. He’d gotten what he wanted, his hands in places I never would have tolerated had he been sober. Or maybe he was just trying to provoke a reaction from me. Either way, I decided not to mention it at all.
I went into his closet and returned with his suit.
“We’re going up to Sudbury, today,” he said. “It’s a small city near Boston. I have a… business interest there. So, please pack enough for an overnight trip.”
“I have to say, the whole valet thing is getting on my nerves,” I said. “Do we really need to keep up the front?”
“It’s necessary to keep my father off guard,” answered Evan, “to make him think he doing something cunning and underhanded. He’s never happier than when he thinks he’s outsmarting me. So, I let him think that a lot. But soon those days will be over,” said Evan getting a hungry look in his eye. “However for the present, we’ll need to keep up the pretense on every level or it won’t be convincing. So, you’d best pack my things.”
I was packing his clothes almost before I realized it. I couldn’t believe it. I was stuck with him for a year, a year! I kept running it through my head. How could this have happened to me? I still wasn’t sure. But of one thing I was sure: I wasn’t going to remain his valet for much longer. Somehow, I’d find a way out of it.
I went back to my room to pack my own meager case and was somewhat startled when my cell phone rang. I’d already explained to my friends and family that I’d taken a confidential job and I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. They immediately had started joking about working for the CIA, and at this point I was sorry they were wrong. I had told them they shouldn’t call me and that I would call them, and I did pretty regularly. So, there was only one person who would be calling me, and I honestly didn’t know what I was going to tell him.
“Hi Cody,” I said flipping the phone open. “You must be back.” Man, I could feel my temperature rising just thinking about him. He was 19 and on the US Gymnastics team. He had light brown hair, dazzling blue eyes, chiseled features and a body that would stop traffic. Sure he was a little short, but the rest of the package more than made up for it. I still wasn’t sure how I wound up with him, but he said brainy guys turned him on. Who was I to argue?
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m back, but where are you? I walk into your place and it looks like it hasn’t been lived in for a month.”
“So, how did the meets go?” I said, trying desperately to lead the conversation away from me. They were currently running all over the world participating in qualifying meets.
“France was a piece of cake but Germany gave us some trouble. I really have to work on my pommel horse if I want to come out on top… which is basically where I hoped I be with you tonight. What gives?”
“Something came up,” I said.
“Again, basically what I was hoping for tonight,” he said. “Where are you?”
“I’m out of town. I can’t really talk about it.”
“That’s just great,” he said. “I’ve only got a few days before I leave for Japan.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m kind of stuck here for a while.”
“Can’t you get unstuck? We’re going to China after Japan so I won’t be back for a few weeks.”
“I would if I could but things are more complicated than you can imagine.”
“What’s the matter?” he asked, suddenly sounding concerned. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
I desperately wanted to tell him everything, but Cody was a little hot headed and compulsive. Knowing him, he’d come charging out here to confront Evan, and that could only mean disaster for both of us. We had to keep our relationship under the radar. Not that Cody was ashamed of who he was; it’s just that his orientation could cost him some of the endorsements he hoped to secure after the Olympics. And knowing Evan’s predilection for blackmail, the last thing I wanted was for Cody to become involved.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I told him. “Just kill at your meets and I’ll try to be in town when you get back from Asia.”
On the way down to the car, Evan and I ran into Malcolm Phips who was also preparing to go, most likely to his offices in the city.
“Leaving us already,” he said to Evan. “I hear you’re taking the jet.”
“Just up to Boston,” said Evan. “I’m visiting that small company I bought.” He glanced at the ground and shuffled his feet. And that’s when I realized it. Evan wasn’t at all confident of his superiority over his father. In fact, he was scared of him. Malcolm Phips was probably the one human being on the planet that had real power over him. Almost instantly I began to think of ways in which I could use this. Then I stopped, horrified. I was starting to think like Evan, starting to manipulate people. Did I really want to go this route? Did I really have a choice?
“Oh, yes, NuGen,” said Malcolm. “R & D companies are generally bad investments. If I were you, I’d sell it off quickly.”
“I may just do that,” said Evan.
“You’re taking your valet?” said Malcolm, nodding at me and raising his eyebrow.
“I find his services useful,” said Evan,
From the look Malcolm Phips shot me I could tell we’d be speaking shortly. I wondered what he thought was going on. Whatever it was, he was the one weapon I had over Evan and I would have to make the most of my audience with him.
Malcolm’s glance had not been lost on Evan either. As soon as the car left the drive, he turned to me and said, “My father will no doubt be calling on you soon. I just want you to know that whatever is said at that meeting will be known to me almost instantaneously. So don’t even think of appealing to him for help. If you do, I will release those photos at once.”
“I understand,” I said, purposely leaving my answer cryptic. I knew he was looking for assurance that I wouldn’t give him away and take the consequences—something I was sorely tempted to do anyway—but I decided to deny it to him. I was getting manipulative.
“I mean it,” he said.
“I know you do,” I said, not giving an inch. I could tell I was unsettling him. My guess had been right. His father really made him nervous. Now I had a weapon, but one that could undo me as easily as it could aid me. I would have to be very careful when I wielded it.
When we got to the airport, there was someone waiting for us, the biggest man I’d ever laid eyes on. He had to be about six foot six or seven inches tall. He was black with a shaved head and sunglasses. He was easily twice as wide as I was and about four times as thick, and his tightly fitted, immaculate designer suit left little doubt that he was all muscle.
Evan saw me gaping and chuckled. “Justin, this is Armond, my bodyguard. Armond, this is Justin, my new valet.” Armond regarded me with an expression that seemed to say he could either say hello or break my neck; either option would suit him fine. In short, he scared the crap out of me.
“Are we going someplace dangerous?” I asked, keeping one eye on Armond.
Evan chuckled. “No. My father is paranoid about kidnappers. He makes me take Armond with me wherever I go. They wouldn’t let him up at school, though. Pity, it might have been amusing.” I almost asked him what he meant, but then I decided I’d rather not know.
After a short flight and another drive we arrived at a nondescript office building in an ordinary looking office park. Within minutes we were meeting with NuGen’s president and founder, Doctor Eugene Kramer.
Of course Evan hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in the presentation they had prepared for him. He wanted to know about alleged illegal experiments the company had been doing on the human genome.
The middle aged man shifted nervously. “I’m sure there’s nothing like that going on here,” said the Doctor, his voice trembling slightly as he looked across the table at Evan. “All research into human genetics is strictly regulated by congress.”
“Let’s cut through it, shall we, Doctor Kramer,” said Evan. “I have just invested a substantial amount of money in your company and I didn’t do it to provide cheep insulin so the world’s mounting population of diabetics could go on stuffing themselves with over sugared treats.
“No, I invested in you because I have received information that you have done substantial work in improving human beings on the genetic level. If this is not the case, then your organization holds no interest for me, and as your majority stock holder, I will seize control of NuGen, break it up and sell off its assets. That should not only recoup my investment but net me a nice little profit as well.”
Dr. Kramer went pale. I could have told him resisting Evan was useless. He apparently didn’t go into negotiations unless he held all the cards. I was no businessman, but even I was beginning to sense that.
“Very well,” said Dr. Kramer. “Follow me.”
The doctor led us past several doors that required key cards and entry codes until we reached a small lab, where it looked like he kept several large Pit Bulls in locked cages. Now I knew Pit Bulls were heavily built dogs, but these Pit Bulls were insanely muscular. Each muscle seemed to be bulging out in ridiculous proportions to the rest of their body. It made me very glad they were inside cages. And now that I looked at them more closely I could see other things that didn’t quite look right. They seemed to have long hair; I’d never heard of a long haired Pit Pull. It looked like they had no necks and their legs, although incredibly muscular, seemed far too short and stubby.
“What kind of dogs are these?” I asked. Evan looked annoyed at my question—that is until the Doctor answered it.
“These are not dogs. They’re Guinea pigs,” said the Doctor. Guinea pigs? Those things were humongous. It simply wasn’t possible. But as I looked closer, I could see the ears, the teeth and the tails were defiantly those of a rodent. My God, what kind of obscenities were these?
Evans face lit up and he started to examine the animals more closely. “Incredible,” he said. “And you’ve done this with humans?”
“We are ready for human testing,” said the Doctor, “But congress will never approve it.”
“But you have tested it, haven’t you?”
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably “There has been human… exposure,” said the Doctor, “but it was unsanctioned, uncontrolled, and unmonitored.”
“But not unrecorded?” asked Evan.
“The subject did keep a crude video log. We found it only recently. It was hidden very well. He must have either forgotten about it or maybe in the end he just didn’t care.”
The Doctor walked over to a monitor and hit a couple of keys. A picture came up of a geeky looking guy not much older than me. He had a thin build, glasses, a goofy grin, a lab coat with a pocket protector, the works.
“This is Milo Thackeray,” said Doctor Kramer. “Twenty-three years old, he was here on an internship from Harvard.”
The Doctor hit a key and the video image of Milo Thackeray sprang to life.
“I just tried calling Joann,” the video Milo said. “She’s not picking up. I’ll bet anything she’s with that football jock Brad, again. I think there might something going on. I didn’t like the way he was looking at her the other day, and I liked the way she was looking at him even less. And the way he kept bumping into me, knocking me around in front of her. I mean, jeeze, the guy has to weigh twice what I do.”
The Doctor hit a key and paused the image. “There’s a great deal of this,” he said. “He goes on at some length about his fear of losing his girlfriend to this football player. There’s no need to hear it all.” He hit a couple more keys and suddenly Milo was addressing us again.
“I finally got into that secret lab of theirs and you wouldn’t believe what they’re doing in there. This could totally solve all my problems with Joann…” The Doctor cut him off again and jumped forward to another point in time.
“I did it,” said Milo. “I went through the process. It was pretty rough. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it for a while, but I pulled through and now here I am. I don’t feel much different, and so far no sign of any changes.”
The Doctor entered and new time code and the image shifted. I had to stifle a gasp. It was Milo again but he looked different, bigger, thicker, and broader, as if he were a college football player, himself.
“This shits amazing,” said Milo, beaming into the camera. “I got on the scale this morning—30 pounds heavier in just two months. And it’s all muscle, all of it. He flexed for the web cam and I could see he had a nice sized bicep bulging in his lab coat. “Joann’s stopped looking at Brad now. I knew it would work.”
“That seems to have turned out well,” I said.
“Hmm,” said the Doctor, and he hit another key. It was Milo again, and oh my God, he’d gotten much larger. His lab coat barely fit him any more. It was pulling tight around his big upper arms and bunching up around the shoulders. He wore it open now, probably because it was uncomfortable for him to close it around those substantial pecs of his which were thrusting out toward the camera and bullying his shirt buttons. And his neck, God, it was thick with corded muscle, and almost as wide as his head. Even his Adam’s apple looked larger and when Milo started speaking, his voice was deeper.
“Last night, Joann said I was getting too big, that I was starting to scare her,” said Milo. “Can you believe that? There’s no pleasing her. First I was too small; now I’m too big.” He rolled his eyes, but then started looking serious again. “The problem is,” he said, looking a little worried, “I don’t know how to stop the growth… or even if I can.” He looked from side to side as if he were afraid someone might overhear. “And there’s something else.” His voice dropped to a whisper as if he were sharing a secret with the computer. “I’m not sure I want to stop it. All this muscle, it’s amazing!” He flexed for the camera. A very large bicep ballooned up on his arm and I heard threads snap. “I feel fantastic. It’s awesome, being so big, with all this muscle. I’m so strong it’s unreal, and I look unbelievably hot. The way people look at me… They either want to be me or they want to fuck me. It’s awesome. I’ve never felt like this in my life, powerful, confident, like I could do anything. But Joann… she doesn’t like it. I don’t know what to do.”
“That young man’s getting quite large,” said Evan. I could see he was tenting. “And you didn’t notice anything?”
Doctor Kramer shook his head. “He said he was working out and I’m afraid none of us were paying that much attention to how fast he was growing. Remember this took place over several months, nearly a year.” The doctor hit another couple of keys. “Let me show you how we finally found out.”
On the screen was a lab. There was a large emitter putting out some kind of green light. The scientists were milling about in it wearing lab coats and goggles, checking monitors, and writing on clipboards.
“That green light is a type of radiant biological energy we’ve been experimenting with,” explained Doctor Kramer, pointing out the green light in the video. “It’s part of our research to end work hunger. As you can see my colleagues are walking around in it completely unaffected. It has a negligible effect on ordinary people, but to someone who’s been processed… Well, see for yourselves.”
The door opened and in walked Milo, looking pretty much as he had in the last journal entry. As soon as he entered the lab, he paused for a moment and swayed slightly putting his hand to his head. He seemed to recover swiftly and crossed the lab to one of the other scientists. He started talking to him but stopped, pulled off his goggles and started rubbing his eyes.
“You ok?” asked the scientist.
“I don’t know,” said Milo. “I feel kind of strange.”
Then it started happening. Milo began to grow. I could see his muscles starting to swell up under his lab coat, pulling it tighter.
“Unhhhh,” he said, as the buttons began popping off his shirt. The other scientist stepped back.
“Guess I should have bought a bigger shirt,” said Milo.
His shirt front was now wide open, exposing his white undershirt which barely contained a large set of rapidly growing pecs. Only a couple of buttons around his remarkably narrow waste still held on.
He turned toward the emitter. “It’s the energy,” he said, moaning. “It feels so good.” He spread his arms wide and the growth seemed to intensify. “What a rush.” His white undershirt pulled tighter and tighter as his pecs grew fuller and rounder beneath it. Suddenly he inhaled sharply and shook his head like he was trying to clear it.
“Whoa!” he said, as he looked down at his bulging shirt front. “I’m… getting bigger. I… I don’t understand…” Suddenly, he gasped. His bull neck had grown to the point where the t-shirt collar was digging into it. He reached up with his meaty hand and yanked on his shirt, ripping it open, tearing a gap, and exposing the top of his large, growing striated pecs. His hand lingered on them, feeling their swelling hardness, and then… “This is FUCKING INCREDIBLE!” he shouted.
Then pop, pop, Riiiip and the seams on his lab coat shoulders gave way, as Milo’s delts, covered in a layer of shredded white cotton, bulged up and just seemed to keep getting bigger while they stretched out further and further from his thickening neck. “Oh man, I feel so fucking jacked!” He raised his arms and flexed. His sleeves filled instantly with something big hard and unyielding. The cloth tensed; the material snapped, popped and exploded as giant, powerful, vein ridden biceps erupted out of them.
“Oh fuck, my arms!” he said. “Look at my arms! They’re fucking huge!” He turned around displaying himself for the rest of the shocked scientists. And as he did, the back of his lab coat split open, wrenched apart by tremendous slabs of shredded, undulating muscle ripping its way to freedom.
“Oh fuck yeah!” he cried. “Fuck yeah! All this fucking muscle all over me. So fucking big. So fucking hard! So fucking hot.”
Huge rents and tears began opening up in his pant legs as his massive quads exploded with size and tore their way out.
“Yes!” he cried, looking down at his bulging, segmented thighs, “un-fucking-stoppable!”
His t-shirt finally gave up the battle and blew into shreds releasing his giant pecs, which sat on top of six stacked boulders which he probably called abs.
“Oh fuck yeah!” he cried.
Dr. Kramer pointed at one of the scientists on the screen. “At this point Doctor Petersen had the presence of mind to realize what was happening and shut the emitter down.” We watched Dr. Petersen scramble over to the emitter and hit a button; the green light faded.
Milo stopped growing but he still seemed to be caught up in some kind of frenzy. He ripped the shredded clothes from his body, and oh my God, he was a beast. Huge, ripped, lean muscle bulged out all over him, covering him from head to foot. He might have been twice as thick as he was when he walked into the room. He looked like a Mr. Olympia contender. He had a cock that would put a horse to shame, and it was fully primed and ready for business. He flexed his massive biceps for his quivering audience and they blasted out of his arms like twin volcanoes. He looked at them with an expression of primal joy.
“Joann’s gonna dump me now for sure,” he said. “She liked me small and weak and helpless. But I like me better like this! Oh yeah, a lot better like this.” And he pumped his giant arms up even bigger. “Look at these puppies. Who needs the fucking bitch when you’ve got guns like these?” He leaned over and licked his left peak.
“And just incase she thinks she’s gonna live happily ever after with Brad, I’ll fucking break him into pieces. With this body I can fucking do it, too, without even breaking a sweat. He’s only dreamed of having fucking biceps like these,” and he pumped his massive arms again making those rock hard mountains of flesh bulge up even bigger and the veins stand out even more, “biceps that will crush him like a paper cup at a water cooler. He won’t stand a chance against all this muscle. And every inch of me is made of muscle now. I can feel it, every granite-hard pound of it. I’m a fucking muscle tank. He’ll break his puny little fists on these massive rock hard abs and I’ll break his scrawny little pencil neck with just one fucking muscle finger. He thinks he’s a real man. I’ll show the fucking runt what a real man really is.” Then he reached over and grabbed a particularly heavy piece of lab equipment and with massive biceps bulging, raised it up over his head, and threw it across the room, where it broke apart against the wall.
Doctor Kramer shut down the monitor. “He destroyed half the lab before we could tranquilize him.”
“Where is he now?” asked Evan, gasping slightly. I could see a wet patch had formed at his crotch.
“When he came to, he was much calmer,” said the Doctor. “We gave him the choice of either submitting himself for a full range of tests, or dismissal. He chose to leave us.”
“And you just let him go?” I said.
“It’s still a free country,” said Doctor Kramer, “and we’re not exactly set up to keep prisoners. And we really couldn’t file a law suit because the process was illegal. Still the episode yielded some useful information. The process obviously causes personality changes and there was a marked decrease in intelligence. It would be fascinating to study it further, but we can only do that with more human testing and the FDA would never approve it.”
“That, Doctor Kramer, is why God gave us NAFTA,” said Evan. “I can have you set up in Mexico inside a week. But first I want you to tell me all about your process. Don’t leave anything out. You may have to explain some of the basics, but I think you’ll find I’m a quick study.” Then Evan turned to me. “Justin, there’s no reason for you to stay for this. Why don’t you take Armond, go to the hotel and arrange our rooms.”
I was being dismissed. This casual reminder of our employer/valet relationship was not exactly what it seemed. Evan kept me around long enough to see that what he proposed was actually possible, but he didn’t want me to have any more details than that.
I turned to go, but he stopped me with a word. “Wait,” he commanded. “Two things: first, there may be someone waiting for you at the hotel. Just remember our earlier conversation and everything will be fine.” I nodded, completely understanding what he was talking about. “And second, before you go, please bring me a change of pants from the car.”
As soon as I had gotten to the hotel and finished checking us in, Armond tapped me on the shoulder and led me to one of the hotel’s meeting rooms. I had no doubt who would be waiting.
Malcolm Phips was seated alone at the head of the long conference table. Laptop open and with an ear piece in his ear he was barking instructions at some underling in a distant location. As soon as he saw me, he ended his conversation.
“Mr. Conroy,” he said, getting right to the point, “Evan has never taken a valet on a trip before. Kindly explain what is going on?”
This was my chance. I was going to have to tread very, very carefully. There was a chance Evan would hear every word I said. “Evan knows about me,” I said. “He has from the beginning.” That was as close as I could get to warning the tycoon, that his son was somehow keeping tabs on his dealings. I hoped Malcolm was sharp enough to pick up on it.
“He knows about you and yet he keeps you around?” asked Malcolm puzzled.
“I’d like to tell you I’m still here because he’s agreed to therapy,” I said, “but unfortunately it is exactly as you described; he doesn’t think he needs it.”
“Then…?”
“He keeps me around mostly to placate you. He believes that while I am around, you won’t send anyone else to check up on him.”
Phips nodded as the obvious truth of this sank in. “And you went along with this?”
“I think I can help him,” I said. “He does need help, and if he doesn’t get it, there could be serious consequences down the road. He listens to me to a point, and I think eventually I can get him to trust me enough to confide in me. And then we can go from there.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do. But the valet pretense is getting in the way. It puts me at a definite disadvantage. He thinks he needs to keep it up to fool you, but there’s really no need for that any longer.”
Phips contemplated this for a minute before he said, “Well then there’s only one thing to do. I shall have to engage a new valet for Evan and you, Mr. Conroy, can begin focusing all your efforts on treating my son.”
Yes! I wanted to shout. Mission accomplished. No more valet. But I still wasn’t sure how Evan was going to take this.
He didn’t get back from NuGen until very late and when he did he was furious. It was the first time I’d ever seen him lose his cool, which just emphasized how scared he was of his father.
“I’m so close and you could have ruined everything! I should send out those photos right now!”
“Then why don’t you?” I said, calling his bluff. “What’s changed? I’m still stuck to you like glue. Your father won’t be sending anyone else to check up on you. The only difference is I won’t be tucking you in at night.”
“You defied me!” He shouted, getting right up in my face. “I don’t think you realize your situation. I own you. For the next year you are my property. You will not do anything, unless I tell you to. Is that clear enough for you? You went to my father behind my back and believe me there will be consequences.”
“You’ll send out the photos?” I asked.
“Oh no, I have a much better idea. But by the time I’m done, you may wish I had released those photos.”
Evan turned and marched from my room. I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not, but I planned to keep my eyes open at all times just in case. I couldn’t imagine what he could do to me that would be worse than what he’d already done. But I wouldn’t put it past him to attempt something.
Of course my role in all of this was becoming a little clearer to me. Evan needed an audience for what he was about to do, someone who could appreciate his achievements, and I was the one he’d chosen.
The following morning, all traces of Evan’s outburst had vanished. He was his usual cool, collected self again. But he was looking a little pale—that is, paler than usual. And as we drove towards the airport, I asked him, “Are you feeling alright this morning, Evan?”
“Ah,” said Evan, “the compassionate doctor checking on his emotionally unstable patient.”
“I don’t find you emotionally unstable,” I said. “If anything the reverse is true. You keep yourself under tight control at all times, a little too tight. The occasional emotional outburst, like you had last night, would do you good.”
Evan leaned back and closed his eyes. “Yes, I did act rather badly last night. I apologize for my bad temper, but you did act inappropriately.”
“Evan,” I said, “if you didn’t want someone who would push back, then you shouldn’t have ensnared someone who was “almost as smart” as you are.”
He cracked open one eye and regarded me briefly before closing it again and smiling. “No, I shouldn’t have, should I?” Then he drifted off to sleep.
Evan slept the rest of the way to the airport. He didn’t look at all well and when I put my hand on his forehead I could tell he was running a fever. By the time we got to the plane, it had to be over a hundred. He was in a hurry to get home but I told him he ought to stay put for a couple of days, see a local doctor and wait for the fever to break, but he wouldn’t listen to me. We flew straight back home. He still continued to bark orders into a phone all the way, continuing to set things up for his Mexican venture even though it looked like he might collapse at any moment. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone so driven.
As soon as we got back to the Phips estate, Evan went straight to his room and collapsed. He refused to see a doctor and would take only those medications designed to lower his temperature. He was acting very strangely. Rather then bundling under his covers he had them turn up the heat in his room and then lay naked on top of his bed, which he had moved next to the window so he could be in the sun all day.
For some reason, I was the only one he’d let tend him. I suspect it was the measure of control he had over me rather than any kind of sentiment. He repeatedly warned me not to try anything while he was sick because he was sure to find out about it later. To be honest, I was actually concerned for his health. As much as I disliked him, I certainly didn’t want to see him dead. And his illness was so severe it frequently looked like it might end that way. He was so pale and still most of the time and his breath was so raspy. His fever was relentless. It was all I could do to keep him from burning up completely. I don’t think anyone else in the house realized just how bad he was. He had chased them all away and forbidden me to say anything.
And then one day the fever was just gone. I went into his room and found him pale and shaky standing in front of the mirror, dressed only in pants, looking a little bit gaunter, if that was possible, but full of his old fire.
“Good, Justin,” he said when he saw me. “Get ready. We’re leaving for Mexico in an hour.”
“Evan,” I said, “That’s not a good idea. Your fever just broke last night. You should wait a few days a least…”
He looked at me and laughed. “I’m not sick, just the opposite. I’m in better health than I’ve ever been.”
“Better than you’ve ever…? Have you looked at yourself?” I asked.
“Yes, I’ve looked at myself.” He laughed again. “But the better question is have you looked at me? I can’t believe you’re so unobservant. If you were still my valet you would have noticed.”
Then I did notice. Evan’s pant legs were up around his ankles. I looked again more closely. There was no mistaking it. He was about an inch taller than he used to be.
“That was no illness,” said Evan, following my gaze. “That was the first stage of Doctor Kramer’s treatment. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone because there was a chance it could have killed me. But I decided to risk it, and it worked. I got through it. I’m changing, Justin; I can feel it working inside me already. I’ve started the journey. Soon I will be gigantic with muscles of tremendous size and power, a colossus the likes of which the world has never seen or even imagined. This is my destiny and I hunger for it. So now we must go to Mexico, to Doctor Kramer, so the main phase can begin.”