It was Friday, the day before Halloween, and many of the people at the hospital, where I am a doctor on staff, where dressed up in costumes. I was never big on dressing up for the holiday, especially at work, since something about the costumes would often become uncomfortable or problematic. Proving my point was the head nurse of my unit, who dressed up as an angel, complete with a set of wings. I suggested to her that they might make it hard to work, but she didn't think so. But soon, every time she turned, she's sweep something off the counter, or swish her wings across someone's head seated at their station. Within an hour, she had taken the wings off.

"Lose your wings, angel?" I asked her with a smirk.

"Oh be quite, spoilsport. And don't you dare say 'I told you so'."

A few minutes later, I heard two nurses, one a witch and one a scarecrow, laughing between themselves about something. I heard one of them say, "He's too skinny for that costume. You should have some muscles to wear that." The other nurse nudged her, and tilted her head down the hallway. Both nurses stopped talking. I looked up and saw Stan, the maintenance guy, coming down the hall. He had on a Superman outfit, complete with cape and fake muscle padding. Stan was a tall guy, about 6'4", but very lean. He weighed about 170lbs, and it was sort of a shock to see him all padded up with size.

"Nice outfit," I said to him as he approached the station.

"Thanks, doc," he said. "It's kinda hot though." I noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. I also noticed for the first time that Stan was actually a pretty good looking man. Or was it just the costume, with its overstuffed padding, which made his arms and chest look huge, way bigger than the Superman in cartoons and movies, and his abs looked like 8 loaves of bread stacked together. Maybe I had never looked this closely at him, but his jaw looked squarer and more thickly stubbled than I remembered it. When he turned to talk to one of the aides, I saw that the suit even had padding on the back, so that his fake lats stuck out past the red cape, which was also pushed out by the big overly padded gluteus maximus. I shook my head as I realized I was getting turned on by his stupid outfit. I wondered if I could actually have an erotic encounter with a guy in a fake muscle suit. If the padding were made of a hard rubber, I probably could. Especially if the guy was good at talking shit about his size and strength. I watch Stan as he headed down the hallway, his cape flowing behind him. I swear he was walking with a swagger. Was he just getting into character, or did the leg padding make him walk that way?

As Stan turned the corner, I realized that I had actual work to do. I pulled the patients' charts I needed to review and went to my office. The day went pretty quickly after that, and before I knew it, it was after 5 o'clock. I was getting ready to head out, when I heard a deep voice say "Hey Doc". I looked up and saw Stan standing in my doorway. Filling my doorway was more like it, his head almost touching the top, his huge shoulders touching both sides of the door jam, and his cape hanging behind him like a curtain.

"Hey, Superman," I said to him. I noticed that his hair was slick with sweat. "You still in that outfit?" I asked him.

"Yeah. That's sort of why I'm here, Doc, I'm starting to freak out a little."

"What's up?"

"I tried to get out of this earlier today, I was getting so hot, but the fucking thing won't come off. It's so freaking tight," Stan said, tugging at the neck of the costume. I noticed that his chest muscles rolled up and down as he moved his hand around his neck. The padding looked so realistic, there were striations in his pectorals.

"Come on in," I said. I walked around my desk and he stepped up to me. I'm 5'10" tall, and at 6'4", Stan towered over me. I reached up and tried to put my fingers under the neck of the costume, but I couldn't. The material was too tight around Stan's neck, which I realized was quite thick and solid, and had a very masculine protruding Adam's apple. He was also very hot to the touch. "You feel like you might have a fever," I said, putting my hand on the side of his neck. His skin was almost leathery, and hot with sweat. I could feel my heart starting to pound faster.

"Yeah, I've been super hot all day," he said.

I'll say, I thought to myself.

"And that's not all, Doc. Watch this." He walked over to my desk, squatted down, put one hand underneath it, and lifted it off the ground. I stumbled back as Stan stood upright, holding my desk in the air with one hand.

"Geezus," I said.

"And look," he said, raising his free arm and flexing it. The fake muscle padding rose up and up, responding like real muscle, the suit so tight I could see striations in his arm, and the split that runs across the top of the biceps. His peak jutted up like a craggy mountaintop. His arm had to be 24" around.

"Stan," I said, stunned.

"I know, Doc," he said, putting my desk down. He stood facing me, and I swear he was bigger than when he came into my office. His chest was swelling outward, and his abs were undulating with muscularity. "What's happening to me?"

I was trying to make sense of it myself. I went over to my desk, and pulled out a pair of scissors. "Maybe the costume is so tight, it's acting like one of those lifting shirts that powerlifters use. They can lift a lot more weight with the shirt on than without it."

"Uh-huh," Stan said, looking unconvinced.

I went over to him, and as I reached up toward his big neck, I realized my hands were shaking a little. "Come over here and sit on my couch," I said, leading him over. He sat down on the edge of the couch. I put my hand on his shoulder. The heavy padding felt extraordinarily real. His traps were huge and rock hard, and I could feel the heat coming off them, even thru the suit. I took the scissors, and tried to slip them between his thick leathery neck and the material. I got them in, but they wouldn't cut the fabric. These were very sharp scissors. Stan looked up at me with concern. I wanted to hold his massive frame in my arms. "Wait right here," I said. I went over to my cabinet and got a scalpel.

Stan leaned back as I approached him. "Doc..." he said warily.

"It's ok," I said, as I put the sharp edge of the scalpel under his neck. This time, the material began to split. I cut about 2 inches down the front, then tried to rip it, to no avail, so I continued to cut with the knife. I expected to see padding, but instead just saw real chest muscle rising up from the cut. I could smell the thick musk of a day's worth of sweat. I cut another inch, and could see the deep cleavage between Stan's massive pecs. Suddenly, Stan reached up and took my arm and pulled it away from his chest.

"Let me," he said. Then he reared his big shoulders back and heaved his chest forward. The costume continued to rip down the center, down his chest and to the middle of his abs. Then he took his hands and ripped the suit apart. Then he stood up.

"Holy shitt," I stammered, as Stan ripped the fabric to shreds. It tore like blue silk in his big hands. There was no padding. Stan's exposed torso was solid muscle, massive as a Grey's Anatomy chart on steroids.

"Help me out of these tights," he said to me. I grabbed the waistband of the trunks, and began to pull them down as Stan stood over me. Now that the top of the suit was gone, the material had much less resilience. Even so, I had to tug and tug to get it over Stan's monster glutes. Once over those huge mounds, I still had a tug-of-war getting the fabric down over his legs. His thighs had to be 36" around. "Stan," I said, leaning my head against a huge hard quad. "Doc," he said, cupping my head in his hands and tipping my face upward. All he had on now was a jockstrap, the pouch of which was stretched tight by a heavy set of testicles and a big club of a cock.

"Trick or treat, Doc?" Stan said, his voice deep and powerful.

"Both," I answered, getting on my knees to treat my patient.