BMOC: Black Mage on Campus, Chapter 3: Envy and Gluttony — “A Word from Our Sponsor”

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“You’re a fascist!” Alyssa snarled.

“You’re delusional.” Rob snapped back.

There they sat: Alyssa the undisputed queen of the most altruistic sorority on campus and her egomaniacal rival Rob, the current president of both the jock Frat and the Greek Senate.

“How can you be such a bleeding heart liberal? You come from one of the most influential families in town?” Alyssa ignored him and shuffled her papers testily. Rob eyed her with contempt. Not only had she turned him down every time he offered take her to dinner or suggested a study date, now the bitch was arguing with him. “You know Alyssa, I would think you of all people would be able to understand the current Republican Economic Agenda.”

Alyssa Vaughn straightened quickly as if she had been slapped. “That is possibly the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Their Economics discussion group had quickly deteriorated into an all out war of political ideologies. Alyssa, ever the bastion of New Deal Fundamentals, and Rob, the poster boy of reganomic’s, were frothing at the mouth for each other’s blood.

“Illegal immigration is undermining the economic security of American jobs.”

“American jobs! Do you know the kind of jobs illegal immigrants perform?” Ally yelled, “They do the jobs that no one else will. They wash dishes; they mow lawns, all the labor SOME people feel they’re above.”

Rob scowled at her; he didn’t like being argued with. He had become accustomed to autocratic obedience, “PERFECT POINT! If we get rid of all the Border Jumpers then we can fix the Social Security system. We can get all the free loaders off of that.”

“Fix the social security system?” She sputtered

“Ya If a Mexican can mow a lawn, a retard can!”

Leo from his vantage point at the back of the classroom turned to peter who had been quietly trying to melt into the background, “Hey Peter, you’re pretty fucking handicapped; you think you could mow a lawn.” He laughed loudly. His two buddies Reece and Preston, the respective place Kicker and halfback of the football team laughed along.

The professor cleared his throat loudly, “We’ll continue this discussion next week.” He said, effectively dismissing the class.

The entire class breathing in relief from being released from the clash of the campus titans, escaped quickly.

Leo grabbed his leather satchel, Reece and Preston quickly fell into line behind the arrogant quarterback. He passed Alyssa and summed up his own foreign policy, “First we get rid of the Spic’s then we put all the Niggers back on boats to Africa.”

Ally hissed like she had been burnt, “Still pissed off about that Transfer student? The new running back stealing all you press, Leo?”

Leo’s place as the most biddable team member to make the draft was now a bit precarious. After a few months of undeclared dictatorship and many financial promises from different agencies and scouts, he was now second place. The new running back was getting courted and getting all the choice deals, that Leo thought he had on lock. He could feel the money slipping through his fingers and he had been rampaging the campus ever since.

“Fuck you.”

“Ya Fuck you.” Reece chimed in.

“Bitch.” Preston said.

All three athletes left the room without a look back.

Alyssa rubbed her temples. So much negative energy. Ugh…

“I’m sorry,” Rob apologized, “He’s just real upset about the deals falling through.”

Alyssa smiled; at least Rob still had manners. “Thank you.”

His smile grew purposeful “You want to grab some lunch? I just have a few fliers to drop off for Congressmen White and then I’m free.”

“White? That corporate lackey? Tell me you’re not helping campaign for that bigot.”

“Of course I am, he’s got great connections in the beltway. There are a lot of positive aspects to the republican plat form, especially for people in your financial situation.”

“I think I just lost my appetite.” Alyssa told him and stalked off.

Damn it. He was the big man on campus and Alyssa was the most viable girl. How could she not see that they belonged together? They would be the perfect power couple, if the stuck up bitch would just uncross her damn legs.

Rob Grabbed his own books and headed to his car, he had a long afternoon of distributing campaign material to local businesses.

After class Peter rushed to his compact little Honda. He turned the key in the ignition, and then almost had a heart attack.

“Lindsey Lohan is Absolutely Bat shit crazy.” Damien told him, putting down a recent issue of people magazine.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

Damien tilted a pair of sunglasses and gave him a flat look, “Does it really matter?”

Damien looked different again. His bulky frame was hidden in a mass of Sky blue sweats and what looked like bright red bangs stuck out of a blue ball cap. Thick black mutton chops rested across his cheeks.

“What do you want?”

“I told you, the spell’s going to strike again,” Damien smiled fondly, “like lightening.”

Peter eyed him wearily. After Seeing Ben reduced to a 50’s fuck toy, he was a little frightened of Damien. But his dick was rigid with anticipation.

“Buckle up Rabbit, We’re going to church.”

After fifteen minutes of bad directions and limited conversation, they pulled into a parking lot. The fifteen minute drive was silent except for Damien’s running commentary on the ups and downs of Hollywood celebrity. He was just finishing off a tirade about how in his day, you hired a damn driver and NEVER EVER carried your own cocaine, when they pulled up to the local townie Gym.

“Where are we?”

“The Steel Mill Gym, Rabbit.”

“I thought you said we were going to church.”

Damien eyed him skeptically, and then leaned in conspiratorially, “You’re really bad at this whole “Being gay thing” Aren’t ya?”

Peter didn’t understand the comment and got the feeling that Damien was making another joke at his expense. “Now what.” He demanded acerbically.

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“Well Rob’s in their right now and we have to wait till he comes out.”

Peter looked at him quizzically “Why don’t we just go in?”

Damien’s eyes grew tight and angry. He shifted uncomfortably, “Too many Damn Mirrors.”

Inside the gym Rob was trying to convince the local owner to support a state wide resolution on penalizing landlords from renting to illegal immigrants, by voting for a current proposition on next month’s ballot.

“How long is this going to take?” Peter wined. “I have class at twelve.”

“What does time have to do with anything?” Damien asked as they got out, and stood beside the little foreign car.

“I don’t have much time.”

“Of course you do, you have as much as you want… or none at all.” Damien answered cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

“Time is perceptional… it doesn’t really exist… it’s just a way for you Neanderthals to count between big fire ball come up and big fire ball go down.” He lectured flamboyantly. He drew a small bottle from his hoody and took a sneaky swig.

“Time does to exist! You can’t just say dates… hours … months…years are all relative concepts.” Peter argued irritably. He was getting quite tired of Damien sputtering bizarre theories as if they were fact.

Damien gave him a long steady look of contempt. “Americans… you’re so ... so …” his lips curled around the word like a vile curse. “Linear.”

Peter gave a frustrated sigh. What is that supposed to mean?”

“You think time is some big line stretching into infinity.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Christ no.” he drew a big circle on the dirt ground with his feet. “That’s time.” he gestured to the circle. “What has happened ... is happening now. What will happen has already happened.”

Peter gave him a look that spoke ominous volumes of incomprehension.

“Time is a circle, overlapping into infinity.” Damien said with a pleased smile. “My magic doesn’t just alter the now. It reshapes the past to reflect the changes to the present. I’m no mere magician turning a scarf into a dove. The actual change might seem to happen spontaneously, but the real change has happened in the past and the present is rushing to recalibrate.” He grinned beatifically and then most unceremoniously hiccupped. He pulled a flask from the pocket of his hoody and took another quick swig.

“You’re drunk!” peter breathed accusatorily.

“What of it?”

“It’s 11 in the morning.”

“In the words of a great philosopher it’s 5’o’clock somewhere.” Damien shrugged. “I told you time is perceptional.” Then he shrugged. “I’m not feeling very well lately.”

“And that’s supposed to make you better?”

“Well ya see when I was little, my granny used to give me a hot cup of tea with a little whiskey in it, when I was sick.”

Peter gave the bottle in his hand a long steady look.

Damien shrugged. “I’m out of tea.”

Peter was going to once again point out that Damien was nuts. But realized how useless it would be.

It was then that Peter saw Rob exit the gym. Damien noticed to, he made no motion to move but Peter saw his mouth moving slowly,

“Crossing Lines of Vice and sin

Let one breath out let one Breath in.

Color the eyes green and rough

Too much of a good thing, is never enough

Crossing lines of sin and vice

Retread now the same path twice…”

Rob seemed to stand motionless for a minute and then quickly turned around.

Back in to the gym. He was suddenly ready to argue a second round with the dim-witted Gym owner. The fucking meat head had to see reason eventually, Congressman White’s agenda for the small business owner was comprehensive and efficient.

He was walking into the vacant lobby when he realized no one was there. Where had all the people gone? He searched unsuccessful and was about to give up, when he heard a commotion from the weight floor.

There was a large crowd gathered around the leg equipment. Ron stood up on one of the machines and peeped over a whole gym’s worth of bystanders. The audience had gathered to watch some work out. Not just some one. The guy looked like several some ones. He was massive.

The main attraction was a darkly tan Spanish guy grunting underneath the weight of a 2200lb leg press.

The guy was massive and he was bulging out of every inch of flesh with strain.

“Impressive isn’t he.”

Rob turned and was face to face with an equally impressive man. He had had short cropped dark brown hair and a big frame, underneath a USC sweater.

“Julio’s going to be a fierce competitor.” The guy mused.


The guy smiled broadly, “Professional Bodybuilding competitions.” He explained then extended his hand, “Hi, My Name’s Steve Conners.”

“Rob Cameron.” Rob said shaking the hand. “He’s huge!”

“Yeah, he is. We’ve been training together for two years.” Steve said proudly.

“You train with him?”

“Oh no, I’m his Sponsor.” He could see the blank look on Rob’s face. “I help him.”

“Oh… Is it hard to get that big.” Rob asked his throat dry with envy.

“OH… yeah…Let me get Julio cleaned up and I can explain it to you.”

It was a short time later that the three of them were walking in the parking lot and Steve was offering him a ride back to campus.

Rob didn’t know why he was in this guy’s Hummer. HE didn’t know why he had agreed to the ride back to campus, but it all seemed to make sense. In the back seat Julio was panting like a big dog. He had changed into a silly tank top that said prom queen in gold sequins and a pair of tiny jean shorts. His big bloated muscles were packed into the fucking ridiculous clothing.

The huge Latin beast was staring out the window, looking excitedly at every piece of suburban countryside like it was an alien planet.

“He doesn’t get out of the city a lot.” Steve said giving Rob a knowing grin, “And they didn’t exactly have suburbs where he comes from.”

“Oh.” Rob answered.

“So you were looking for a sponsor kid? I mean you’re in decent shape but you’d need to put in about a year or two of training.” Steve told him.

Rob fumbled, “I really wasn’t looking for a sponsor, and I just wondered how a dude gets as big as Julio.”

Hearing his name, Julio looked up. His pretty Spanish face lighted up and he said in a thick Puerto Rican accent, “¡mi nombre es julio, de que es yo!!” and then his gargantuan pec’s bounced while he giggled.

Steve smiled affectionately, “It sure is buddy.” He turned his attention back to Rob, “Well, to get as big as him you really need a sponsor. A coach, who can afford to help you afford steroids, supplements, maintain your diet… and who also knows how to help you train to maximize your gains.”

Rob listened intently. He knew he had a good body but a secret part of him was eager to get bigger. Have a Better body, be envied for it the way people envied his position and brains. He wanted everything and more of it.

“And that’s what you are? A Sponsor?”

“Oh yeah.” He smiled, “It’s not easy but I love it. I’m a personal trainer and I used to do body building competitions but now that I’m older I like to help guys out the way people helped me out.”

Rob considered this silently. His long term plan didn’t really fit into lifting weights twice a day eating and sleeping all day… but it was relaxing to imagine.

“If you think Julio is big…”

“Julio es grande. Julio es una bestia total del músculo!” Julio barked behind them flexing a massive double bicep. “OUCH!” he snorted as his elbow slapped against the window.

“…HE is real big, but I sponsored this dude once who got real huge. I’m talking a cut defined 300, now he was a real monster.”

“Really?” Rob asked interested.

“Ya, it was a couple years ago. I met him when he was just graduating high school…” he paused. “You sure you’re interested in this bud?”

“Ya.” Rob said feverishly interested. Some dude bigger then Julio? Shit that guy had to be huge. Bet there wasn’t a dude bigger.

“Well, he was a real bright guy. He was the valedictorian of his class. The kid had the total genetics for it. He was right out of high school, 6’3 and 180… kind of slim but with some serious training that could get huge.”

Rob let Steve’s soothing voice wash over him and listened with rapt attention.

“Well let’s see… I was passing through this poe dunk town in Texas, Flagstaff.”

“I know where that is,” Rob chimed in, refusing to admit that that was also the town he was from.

“The kid was working as a lifeguard at one of the local pools. I was trying to tan up for a contest and was lounging.” He gave Rob a glowing smile that seemed like it would eat him alive. “I could see him watching me. You know when you’re a bodybuilder you can feel guys envying you. Looking at you with such hero worship and feel them wishing that they could even compare to your physical perfection.”

Rob’s eyes glittered in recognition.

“So he was making every effort to get a glimpse of me and about the 10th time he wandered by me, I struck up a conversation.” HE smiled wolfishly. “The kid was all over me with workout questions and compliments. I could see the hunger in his eyes. We talked for a very long time, sitting their by the pool… Fuck it was dark by the time we were down.” He turned toward the back seat where Julio was stupidly fumbling with the child lock window, his massive arms giggling with comic strain, “Julio knows what my long talks are like…” Steve’s voice sounded almost sinister.

Julio smiled his big meat face idiot grin. But it didn’t seem to touch his eyes. His eyes looked a little haunted.

“After we had our little talk, the kid had a whole new plan for his summer break. He had a scholarship in the fall to some preppy east coast school, but for the summer he had decided to stay with me in LA and let me sponsor him. I told him by august I could probably have him ready for a Teen competition. Of course, his parents had problems with it…” Again Steve’s voice was ominous, “but the kid was totally obsessed with the idea.”

Rob heard the tone in Steve’s voice but didn’t notice. He was really jealous of this kid. How fucking lucky. To meet a pro bodybuilder and get to spend the summer in LA? Shit he had worked by a public pool for an entire summer, listening to screaming kids and their white trash parents for three blistering months… nothing that great had happened to him.

“So, the Kid came to stay with me in LA. As soon as he got there I put him on his very first cycle…”

“You gave him steroids!” Rob exclaimed, shocked.

Steve gave him a condescending look, “If you think any man gets into competition shape without chemical enhancement, you’re really naive,” His smiled brightened charmingly back to the approving grin, “Plus, what else is a sponsor really for.”

“I had him on pretty basic but high dose, of DECA and Sustenon Injections and a large amount of D-ball orals. We ate, trained in the morning, ate, slept, ate, trained again, ate, and slept. It was the prefect first cycle.” Steve explained with satisfaction. “By the end of three months he had put on a solid twenty lbs.”

“He only went up, to 200?” Rob asked disappointedly.

Steve laughed, “You sound just like him. He got a taste of the juice and hand a bull on to get huge. But it was the end of the summer and he had to go back to school. Heavy growth… Monster growth takes years of cycling. He wasn’t big enough to participate in the Teen Shows. He was real disappointed. I really felt for the poor guy.”

“So how’d he get up to 300?”

“Well, see that’s why guys with real potential need a sponsor. I could tell the kid wasn’t going to be happy with just 200. But he was convinced he had to go to this fancy college and use his scholarship to better himself. He talked about studying economics, maybe becoming a broker.” Steve sniffed. “Sounded like social climbing to me.”

Rob decided to keep the fact that his major was economics to himself.

“He was a real smart kid though. That was his problem.” Steve looked at Rob with a vicious look that made his grin seem maniacal. “There’s a reason Bodybuilders are dumb. They need to be focused and driven with a simple obsession. Eat. Lift. Grow. Repeat. Hardcore bodybuilding is years of repetition and dedication. An intelligent mind usually can’t maintain the necessary level of blind commitment required to such mundane brute labor. Sure smart guys get big. But they don’t get to be HUGE. They’ve got things that distract them from their motivation.”

“That was this kid’s problem. So… I helped him.”

Rob’s voice was quiet with horror, “How did you help him?”

“Real Pro’s are simple dudes, they’re real happy just being a little less intellectual, not so clever or flat out dumb. But that clarity of mind makes them awesome Trainers.”

Steve glanced in the rear view at Julio, who had dozed off during Steve’s story. His big Latin lips were drooling lightly on one engorged pec and he was cupping his balls through the tiny cutoffs, dreaming happily. “Julio,” Steve barked.

He woke up immediately, “SI?”

“Who’s stupid?”

“Mi estupido!” HE responded with the quickness of ingrained behavior. His smile betrayed not a hint of thought.

“Who is?”

“SI Mi MUCHO Estupido.” He clapped happily, the tiny girl’s tank top almost splitting under the weight of his hunky body.

Steve’s smile chilled Rob to the bone.

“So I helped the Kid. Bout mid summer, I started giving him mild doses of Halydol and Lithium. Not a true chemical lobotomy but enough of one to keep the kid well sedated and happy. By September he didn’t give a shit about college and was to busy worrying about his next cycle. That’s why you need a sponsor, so one who knows better, to intervene for you.”

Rob was so horrified he just stared transfixed at this guy he had thought was totally normal, but turned out was a total nut job.

“He still thought of himself as a genius, a fucking valedictorian,” Steve almost spat. “I had to take care of that. He really had to see himself as a bodybuilder to truly excel. He had to know that that was his only real option. If he knew that he was this Whiz kid that would only distract him. So I sent him back to school.”

“But I thought you said you didn’t want him to go to college…”

“Oh not college pal,” Steve patted his leg in the reassuring gesture you’d give a child. “I had him enrolled at one of the local high schools.”

“But if he had already graduated…”

Steve laughed softly, “Oh kid I’ve got friends and connections that could make entire towns disappear, getting one hayseed from Texas enrolled at a local public school was nothing. That fall he was a high school senior again but instead of all those advanced placement and AP courses he had taken before, I made sure he was in the most remedial classes possible…” He chuckled a little, “Even a few Special ED classes. We went back to training and I changed up his cycle again, some D-ball with Trinabolin and Winstrol. He was really packing on the size. After a month though he got some serious Roid acne. Poor guy, He was a walking roid pimple for the first couple months of school. Made it real hard for him to make friends. You know how it is…” His voice was mocking, “New school, big kid with lots of acne and all those hormones making him feel awkward and weird. The sedatives couldn’t have helped much either, made him real doped up and confused most of the time. He developed a real bad Stutter too…” Steve laughed deeply. “It w-w-was h-h-half impossible to talk to him sometimes…” His eyes glinted darkly, “I can’t imagine where he picked that up…guess he got it from feeling so awkward and shy.”

Rob had stopped questioning the implausibility or shock of Steve’s story. He was just focused on the impossible life this poor kid most have had under this psycho’s tutelage.

“The Kid had never really played a lot of Sports in his original High school. Most of his muscle was from working his father’s ranch.”

Rob had a fleeting thought of his father’s own ranch and how he himself had never had the time between all his studying and his ranch hand responsibilities.

“The football and Wrestling coaches were all over him. I was glad to let him participate. They’re training only augmented and complimented his intense pre-school and after school weight lifting. Poor Kid though, he never got to play. Couldn’t keep his Grades up. HE was constantly ineligible because he was always failing everything. Between waking up at 5 and doing dead lifts with me and his tranquilizers, he was pretty much a zombie during school. Fucking Kid couldn’t even pass Art. Eventually it really broke his spirit. He was this huge beast wandering friendless and confused through school without any hope. His Teachers treated him like a child. The other kids called him a moron. He begged me to let him drop out…” Steve’s smile grew broad, “… of course I let him.”

“But he still knew he had been..”

“Oh no he didn’t, after that he always thought of himself as a dim-witted high school drop out. I convinced him that that was the truth.”


“I can be very convincing when I want to be, isn’t that right Julio.”

Julio’s face was very still and sad, “Si.”

“I said isn’t that right, baby,” Steve reached behind his seat and grabbed one of Julio’s exposed brown nipples and tugged hard, making the enormous pectoral bounce.

Julio shuddered in pleasure rubbing his big smooth caramel thighs together, “Si! Papi SI!”

“Now the kid was ready to be totally committed to his goal. I had really helped him a lot that first year. I guess it was at that time, during his second year… HE was up to a solid 250 by then, and he really looked like a bruiser. I mean 250 is big on anybody but I had been meticulous about his diet and cycles. But he still wasn’t as big as he could get. I knew that his body needed a rest, so after his weight had leveled off I gave the steroids a break and let his training relax to one work out a day. But that left the kid with alota time on his hands. I loved having him around, but by then he wasn’t very much for conversation. And as thick as he had become after prolonged drug use and no stimulation my big boy was kind of bored. So I got him a job.”

“A job.” Rob’s voice sounded hollow and distant to his own ears.

“At the orange County Juvenile Detention Center. They were a little weary about hiring a high school dropout… I faked a GED though and after that his size totally convinced them. He made a great security guard. By then he wasn’t taking any tranquilizers anymore, so he was really able to involve himself. He made such a great model to all those little punks. They worshipped him. He was so glad to find some friends and acceptance after two years of solitude, with me as his only real company. He really loved that job. I guess he did that for about six months… He would come home everyday excited about all the stories the Inmates told him. He spent a lot of time just listening to them talk about their crimes… their home lives… Their drug use. He was a real friendly ear for those little degenerates.

It was easy for him too. Growing up that close to the Mexico border, he spoke enough Spanish to communicate with most of them.”

Steve shrugged, “It’s orange county, most of the inmates were gang members and shit.”

“Yup he really liked it. But he had to start training hard core again, and fortunately he lost his job at the most convenient time.”

“He lost his job.”

“Oh yeah…” Steve said with a sly smile, “Seems all the recreational drug talk among the inmates made him real interested in “experimenting.” And like any good sponsor I was only to happy to get my big boy what he needed. No meth of cocaine though. That would have screwed up his metabolism and I didn’t need the big goon getting addicted to anything.

He did develop a big taste for E though. I’d come home from work 4 out of five days a week and find his big ass sweating, clenching his jaw, and staring at bright lights. They say E eats holes in your brain… so I thought it would be good in the long run. Also made him real Horny. Shit that big fucker needed to get off all the time. So what can I say? I helped him out a lot. I was his sponsor after all.”

Paul’s stomach shifted, he was going to be sick.

“It was either Ecstasy or a K-hole. But he was usually high. He got caught smuggling some into his buddies and was fired. It was a real big deal. Only my own connections kept him from serving time himself. That was hard for him; my big boy spent the next three weeks crying. When he wasn’t training, eating or sleeping.”

“That cycle was his best gainer ever. I introduced HGH, human growth hormone into the mix… and shit he took to that like you wouldn’t believe. I gotta be honest with you though, I had one of my Vet friends hook me up with some Horse Hormones… and SHIT. That fuckin shit made him balloon like a fucking magic potion. BY the beginning of his second year he was a fucking scary 275. The Hormones gave him some wicked side effects though. Did you know that HGH distorts your jaw? It’s so fucking funny. The more of the shit you take the more like a Neanderthal you look. He had a real Hard core bodybuilder’s body and a real hardcore bodybuilder’s steak eating Ape face.”

“It distorts your features?” Paul asked. His voice sounded funny, kind of muffled and it felt like he was talking through cotton.

“Oh yeah, one of the side effects of long term exposure to hormones. And the poor guy started to suffer from one of the other ones too… One of the other side effects of roids… Poor bastard couldn’t get hard anymore. If you juice too much, your body just stops producing enough of its own testosterone to keep an erection.”

“That’s fucking awful.” Rob exclaimed.

“Ya I think so too. But my big guy didn’t care. He was too obsessed with getting bigger. Too much was never enough for him. But it wasn’t that bad. He was real self-conscious about it. You know going on stage in front of people, this big muscled bodybuilder with just a tiny bulge in his posers…” Steve chortled. “So we fixed it. If his dick didn’t work then at least it could look bigger. We got his scrotum and dick injected with silicon so he could have a nice thick sack on stage. It was kind of obscene and exaggerated this big huge bloated pouch. But at least he wasn’t embarrassed anymore. And by then he was competing in Competitions for his Pro card. He was huge and had a bunch of amateur titles under his belt. He was really close to picking up his Pro card and getting some corporate sponsors… I was real excited for him. I was a little sad to. If my Big guy got corporate sponsors he wouldn’t need me anymore, but them’s the breaks. When you’re a personal sponsor like me, you get used to it. Fortunately I never had to worry about it. What with his accident and all…”

“Accident?” Paul practically croaked.

“Oh yeah… The Dumb Bastard was doing skull crushers with a fucking 45lb bar and 65 lbs on both sides. He let the damn bar slip.”

“OH god.”

Steve reached over and patted Paul’s Shoulder affectionately. “Don’t worry he was an honest to god bone-head numb-skull by then, he wasn’t hurt badly. He did break his nose though… And he needed some serious reconstructive surgery afterward.”

“It wasn’t that bad, actually, and he was able to get back to training in a few weeks. He never really was satisfied with how it looked afterward though. He thought his nostrils were too small, so I had to keep paying to get rhinoplasty. He was real obsessed with it. He had them make his nostril holes the size of quarters eventually, and then they broadened the bridge of his nose… and even put some cartilage from his ears in the tip to make it big and round. But that wasn’t enough… My big boy never got enough…”

Rob didn’t know how long they had been driving for but he was pretty sure they weren’t on their way back to campus anymore. He wanted to say something. Have Steve stop the car… pull it over…but he just sat mesmerized.

“You know in LA you see a lot of people who get addicted to plastic surgery… It’s never been my thing but MY boy… he developed a real… taste for it. After all the work on his nose, he decided his lip looked small in comparison, so we got him some collagen. He was happy with that for a while… but not long. He convinced a surgeon to implant gauges around the base of his gums so that his big puffed up lower lip would stick out more. Then the upper lip was too small… so more collagen. And then of course he needed his jaw line augmented to look bigger… then came the cheeks… the cheeks were the worst he wanted big aquiline cheeks that looked puffy and defined…”

“Wow that’s a lot of fucking elective surgery.” Steve said.

“I know but I couldn’t say no to my boy. All in all it took two whole years till he was satisfied. The surgeries didn’t stop him from lifting and juicing though. But they did keep him from competing… can’t go on a Pro Show stage with half your face in bandages, huh? IT was after he healed from his last surgery that he was real upset.”

“It wasn’t until then?”

“Oh yeah, he had just had an eye lift and his ears stapled. He was staring in the mirror. HE did that a lot. He was probably in a K hole. I wouldn’t let him Do E after surgery with his pain killers but I didn’t see a problem with the Ketamine. HE came to me all upset. This big muscle beast the size of car, crying. Crying! He said they screwed up the eyelift. They had tilted his eyes and slanted them, making him look squinty. I told him I thought he looked like a big red headed Mexican.”

“That really upset him, but I told him that being ethnic could really help him get his pro card. Judges are always trying to diversify the sport. They’ll always go for the minority instead one of the 8 white guys who look just like each other. I had to keep at him about it but he eventually agreed to go to a competition and try the angle.”

“You were going to fake being Mexican.” Rob struggled to clear his voice, it was really getting difficult to speak… it was like his mouth was swollen or something.

“He was real convincing. I took him to my stylist, and she did him up right. First she bleached out his hair making it all fried and fuzzy, then she dyed it all an inky black. She gave him a thin black pencil mustache and goatee. To finish it off with that real south central LA Mexican gangsta look, she put his nappy fried black hair in short braids. I had her give him some real expensive black tattooed eyeliner, and then I started putting red and brown food coloring in with the high pressure spray tanning he used before competitions. He really looked like a three hundred pound Mexican gorilla. He didn’t like it at all. He had this real hang up about Mexicans. You know growing up that close to the border; Texans have an attitude about ‘em. Calling ‘em border jumpers and cactus monkeys. I made a deal with him, if it didn’t work, we’d dye his hair back and try to fix his face, we could even give up on the whole Professional Bodybuilder dream and maybe he could go back to Corpus Christi or where ever he was from… He was three hundred lbs… cut… lean and bulging from every direction. He wasn’t going to get much bigger.”

“Did he win?” Rob asked.

Steve’s smile was wide and terrible. “Of course he did.”

“He got his Pro-card under the name Javier Ramirez… No one was going to believe his real name. After that Javier continued to dye his hair and tan all the time. …” Steve’s face grew dark and irritated at a specific memory… “But he must have been real excited at the possibility of going back to Texas, because one morning I went to wake him for our morning training session and he was gone. The Big Dumb Bastard had managed to buy his retard ass a bus ticket. Two actually, cause that fucking beast wasn’t fitting in one seat.”

Rob breathed a sigh of relief for the kid in the story, “So he got away.”

“Oh no, He was back in two weeks. He had gone home and tried to see his family. But they didn’t fucking recognize him. His own father threatened to shoot him if he didn’t get off his land. The gigantic Spic showed back up at my place in LA, crying and hysterical about how he had no place to go. It had only been about three and half years by then but he had changed so much no one recognized him. He left Texas a brilliant gifted lean red headed white kid, and gone back a muscle bound gargantuan Mexican who could barely write his own name or speak without stuttering. He was really distraught. I was actually worried he might hurt himself. So being a good Sponsor I helped him again.”

“h-h-how c-c-could you possibly help him?”

“I convinced him that he was a muscle bound gargantuan Mexican who could barely write his own name or speak without stuttering.”

“That’s Imp-pah-pah-ossible.”

“I told you I can be very convincing.”

“No.” Rob disagreed

Julio lumbered forward from the back seat and put one big creamy honey paw on his shoulder, squeezing affectionately, “Steve principal puede hacerle hace lo que él desea. Usted no tiene un muchacho del blanco del rezo.” Julio’s hand slid down and patted Rob’s massive pec familiarly.

“By then, all the pieces were in place. I encouraged him to forget all about Texas. All he remembered was being a high-school drop out in LA. I used all his memories from working at the Juvie Jail and all the Mexican gang kids that were his friends to replace his old memories. As far as he was concerned he WAS Javier. A stupid Drop out who was in and out of gangs and Juvenile hall… until he met me. HE was nothing but a petty, drug dealing, border jumper until I introduced him to bodybuilding. He was very grateful.”

“T-t-hats H-h-horrible.”

“Oh he was happy as a big muscle-bound moron pig in shit.” Steve answered firmly and unapologetically.

“I was real upset he tried to runaway though. I told him he couldn’t compete anymore, and that I wanted him to start paying me back all the money I had poured into him. He was too stupid to get a job on his own so I got him a job where Julio works, stripping. He makes some money on the side, selling party drugs to the customers and that lets him feel like a big tough guy. But how tough can you be, even if you are a 300lb hulk, when your cock’s useless?”

Rob was about to answer when Steve abruptly parked the Hummer. “We’re here Boys.” He got out of the car and shut the door.

Julio Bounded out of the back seat and Rob at a loss for what to do, followed.

“This way boys.” Steve said motioning to a door at the end of an Alley.

“Si papi.” Julio chimed happily.

“Si Papi.” Rob answered.

Steve lead them through a serious of twisting corridors that he and Julio managed to navigate without a problem. Rob however kept brushing at the walls and stumbling over the closeness of them. He finally showed them into a small dressing room. “Here we are. You two can get ready here. I’m just going to talk to the manager about your show.”

“W-w-hat are you T-t-talking about?” Rob asked confused.

Steve gave him a searching look, “You’re not high are you big guy? It’s cool if you are, just let me know.”


“OH good.” Steve smiled his fatherly reassuring smile, “I’ll be right back boys.” And he left.

Julio began to diligently stare into the mirror and fix his spiky hair. His tanned mocha skin prickled as he smeared baby oil all over his body.

Rob was really confused… where the fuck was he. Steve was supposed to give him a ride back toward campus. Not to some… Shit his head hurt. It was so hard to concentrate.

He sat down into one of the chairs in front of the vanity mirror. The chair looked sturdy but it creaked and felt wobbly under his weight. Rob was real uncomfortable and moved to quickly adjust his junk.

It’s quite a shock to look in a mirror and not recognize the person staring back. It’s even more of a shock when the stranger reacts with your mannerisms. The shock is further compounded when you realize that the person in the mirror is actually you.

The man on the other side of the mirror from Rob was a monster. A gargantuan hulk with blunt facial features, swarthy Latin skin and a look of total heavy lidded, mouth slack stupidity.


The guy’s shoulders were as round and defined as bowling bowls. His traps began at the furthest reach of his Deltoid and bowed upward, a huge arc of muscle that made it seem like his huge swollen neck came right out of his chest. The chest was impossibly large and unfunctional.

He had huge Pec’s the width of doormats and with the thick bulky weight of lead filled pillows. The guy in the mirror was wearing a huge white and gray camouflage t-shirt. It was stretched to tearing over his bloated upper body but hung loose and baggy over his narrow waist. The seams of the sleeves were ripped so as to allow for the girth of his thigh sized arms. Thick over worked veins carved rivers up the deep burnt colored flesh from wrist to shoulder. The mound of the bicep was visible even relaxed and his tricep was so distended with muscle that the dude probably could never reach behind him.

Rob stood.

The man in the mirror stood.

A pair of incredibly big jeans were belted with a thick studded leather belt right beneath the groin, giving a glimpse of about 5 inches of a pair of pristine white boxers. The jeans though absurdly baggy could not hide the awkward akimbo stance the beast had to assume to compensate for his huge thighs. They were almost as wide as the huge width of his shoulders.

The spread of his lats really made him seem like he had wings underneath the expanse of his huge arms. His thick wide back descended in an extra angular foot of mass beneath each armpit, forcing the big guns of his arms into an awkward angled dangle. Thick gold chains hung from the grotesquely swollen neck, and big thick gold rings decorated the big swarthy hands. Each necklace had a hugely ridiculous charm on the end. A Cross. A Pot Leaf. A Big clock. One had a single word in cursive script that was the size of a man’s hand and glittered with diamonds, “Javier.”

The guy turned slightly and Rob could make out the green white and red of a tattoo of the Mexican flag on the dude’s bicep.

The guy was wearing a grey ball hat, which perched wide and unfitted on top of a white bandana that hugged his head. Rob catalogued all this with a detached eye, doing everything he possibly could not to look into the big tanned ogre’s black eyes.

A huge ogre face stared back at him. There was no other way to describe it. It was a thick and bulky face that began with a thick layer of tan skin over a protruding brow. The cheek bones were so wide and prominent they seemed to connect to the massive ridge of the Neanderthal brow. The big puffy cheeks would have encompassed the majority of space on the wide flat face if not for the enormous flat and mulish nose. Nostrils that could suck up quarters flared animalisticly with each labored cavernous breath. The tip was bulbous and the bridge arced, so again it seemed like it was connected to the heavy brow.

The jaw was broad and expansive, squaring off right beneath the ears. The ears were delicate. They laid close to the skull and looked almost none exist. This gave the impression of tiny little lobes against a colossal mug. The lips were thick and sensually Latin. They were the color of deep red blood. The lower drooped dim-wittedly with weight and the upper lip was a perfect plump half heart. Both Lips jutted crudely from the gums giving the face a VERY simian countenance, like the giant’s jaw was bigger then his face.

It was the supreme combination of bestial Humanoid and unevolved imbecility. The features and skin color were classically Latin, …Mexican to be specific but were embellished to overstate the tiny, muscle obsessed, brain behind them.

A pencil thin mustache of dark bristling black was barely visible on the puffy inflated skin of the upper lip, and a soul patch was the only thing to break up the red tan skin of the massive jowls. Heavy Black eye brows that almost met at the bridge of the nose were shaved with lines, breaking up the thick dimwitted scowl.

Rob was transfixed, watching the ridiculously mammoth chest rise and fall, struggling to supply the behemoths frame with air.

Anything not to look at those black eyes.

The MASS! The sheer enormity of the body’s ludicrous proportions! He was the size of two large men and his simple movements would be hindered by the grotesquely disproportionate unnatural development. The back muscles were so over enlarged that he seemed hunched forward to compensate for their bulk. His dimensions were so perverted that he looked more muscled buffalo then man.

If he kept marveling at the size… he wouldn’t have to look into those eyes.

The swollen Forearms hanging limply at his sides…

The vastness of those fat heavy quads…

… Those weren’t his eyes ….

The oversized and overfed ass that was ballooning out of the boxers…

Not His eyes.

…But they were.

They were slightly almond shaped and squinted, hidden beneath the shadow of the moron brow, and they were the deep black of indigenous Mexican stock. They weren’t the twinkling intelligent blue eyes he was accustomed to. But they were undoubtedly his eyes…

“Ohh… Fah-uck!” He and the ogre in the mirror both yelled. It was a subterranean yawn that rumbled like a low bark. The voice that escaped his lips was not the melodious orators’ speech; it was an idiot’s thick throated grumble.

“Que?” Julio asked. He was now completely naked and oiling his massive boner. Rob had once thought that this Puerto-Rican bodybuilder was huge. Now he realized Julio was average compared to a true Steroid factory. He was still an impressive specimen of muscle fixation but he was nowhere near the preposterous and unhealthy proportions of the dumb fuck in the mirror.

“W-w-whats… H-h-happening.” Rob woofed, and then completely stunned sat back in the chair. It crumpled underneath him like paper. He was on the floor, staring wildly around the room. Julio was there next to him in a moment. A look of deep child like concern appeared on the pretty face.

“¿Es usted bebé aceptable? ¿debo ir consigo el steve?”

He wanted to scream. The thought of that Lunatic Conners returning made his enlarged heart flutter in panic. “N-N-N0”

“Venido aquí y le ayudaré a conseguir listo. Usted parecerá muy caliente.” Julio offered, putting a big mitt on the swell of his rear delt. Something in his personality responded with accustomed obedience. It was like he was used to obliging automatically to commands and suggestions, grateful for the help. He raised his arms to his sides and Julio Pried the xxx-large t-shirt from him.

He stood and Julio helped him out of his pants and boxers like a nurse undressing a fragile patient. “OOOOHHH G-G-god my B-b-b-ah- lls…”

Rob looked down over the mass of his fantastic chest muscles, the nipples of which were invisible underneath the mountainous crest of the tit. His vision stretched over the bricklike cobblestones of his roid-gut at an obscene caricature of fleshy cartoon Genitals. His sac hung droopy and inflated against his granite thigh, two huge balls the size of grapefruits swung beneath a gargantuan wrist-sized but obviously unfunctional cock.

Julio smiled brightly, and patted the travesty, “Si es Gordo, et Moy Macho.”

“M-M-Madre D-D-Dios!” Rob exclaimed his jutting lower lip quivering. What the fuck was that? His brain was slow and felt like paste.

Julio handed him a jockstrap and he unconsciously lifted his tree-like legs and slid it up the pillars of brawny man meat. He handled the weight of his balloon-like manhood with both hands, stuffing it comically into the pouch of the jock until it looked like a white ribbed melon hanging between his legs.

He grabbed Julio’s hand in desperation, “W-h-hats going on…”

Julio, mistaking the gesture for affection, turned and leaned into Rob giving him a sloppy but enthusiastic kiss. The other Spanish man’s tongue darted in and out of his mouth tasting his lips. “WE Dance! You are so forgetful.”


Julio shook his big body flamboyantly demonstrating, then he gave Rob’s Whale sized ass an oily smack, “No se preocupe. Una esta noche más última rellenaré su extremo. Le taparé para arriba. Justo como usted tenga gusto.”

Memories flooded to him unbidden. His useless cock leaking cum like a faucet… unable to get erect but still able to respond to his prostate being plowed by the other Man. Julio Fucking him after Nights of dancing while Steve watched. Steve massaging his prostate with a bat sized dildo till he purred and creamed like a woman. Him on all fours while Julio Climbed his ass like they were rhinoceroses Steve lubing him up and fucking him for hours after working out…and always always the need for bigger… longer…more… anything he could cram into the big butt to force his worthless dick to dribble….

Rob grabbed his head and howled, “N-n-O!”



They had left the gym in the early afternoon but by the time Peter pulled up behind the deserted hummer they had been following it seemed like it was midnight. Maybe Damien could manipulate time. The ride seemed quick. It had been relatively quiet as well, sporadically interspersed with Damien clutching his head in pain, and complaining of a splitting headache. This was invariably followed by a swig from his flask. On one occasion Peter even managed the nerve to ask, “What the hell is wrong with you anyway?”

“Spell’s so strong.” Damien mumbled almost incomprehensibly from behind his hands. “It’s warping time… altering probability… pulling to it whatever it needs with the force of a tornado. It’s beyond screwing with just Rob, Leo and Ben… It’s yanking other people in to serve its needs…”

“And this is causing you pain?”



Damien looked up, his eyes for a moment seemed to glow a brilliant azure, “I’m very focused on not focusing on it.”

After that Damien seemed to settle down. But he didn’t speak again until they had parked.

“Where are we?” Peter asked gazing around the darkened alleyway.

“A Den of Sin.” Damien answered his smile returned and his tone was low and menacing. “A dark warren of pagan rights, where men sacrifice everything on the Alters of lust and vanity. It's a terrible place, where desperation and self doubt hunt the weak. It's a place, where the strong are swallowed and consumed by Ego.”

He stepped out of the car and he was no longer wearing blue sweat suit. His clothes had changed with the slam of the car door. Now he was sporting a pair of loose fitting stonewashed jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His red hair jumped in gelled flames from his head. “Here, Men participate in acts of carnality… vain attempts to escape or be accepted…”

Peter got out of the car. He was very confused.

Damien rolled his eyes, “It’s a gay bar, peter.”

“What are we doing here?”

The larger well dressed man turned to him, “You know Rabbit the consistency of your irritatingly Questioning personality is quite charming,” He opened a back door to the bar, “I need to make sure that Rob’s succumbed to the spell…” He tossed his empty flask in a nearby dumpster, “Plus I could use another drink.”

The corridors in the back of the bar, seemed to wind and twist in a thousand places. Peter was very curious as to what was behind all the doors they passed. He followed Damien Through the halls silently. Damien as always was gliding purposefully with his elegant yet indomitable stride.

He paused outside a door where raucous laughter and noise poured from. Inside were two long tables of vanities and in front of them nude, muscular men and boys were in various states of preparation. Some of the men wore nothing, some of had only a silver cock ring around their bobbing erections.

Peter stared hungry and dazed at the frenzied scene. His eyes coveted every curve of the gorgeous go-go boys and strippers. He was desperately trying to commit to memory every stolen voyeuristic glance of their perfect muscled forms.

Beside him Damien stood like an ice sculpture, not reacting at all to the debauchery. “Lovely ladies going for a song, Got a lot of callers but they never stay for long.” His voice was hollow and Peter might have mistaken it… but also sad. “Come on captain you can wear your shoes…Don’t it make a change to have a girl who won’t refuse.”

Damien put his back to the scene and they were rushing up the corridor when he stopped again at another open door.

Peter stepped into the room tentatively. Two huge bodybuilders stood together inside. Both were obviously Latin. The bigger one… The monstrously enormous one, was darker then the smaller pretty one who was trying to comfort him. The big one had to be 300lbs and he was crying hysterically, tears streamed down a red and frustrated face.

They both looked up at him. The pretty one regarded him vacantly from behind long dark lashes and the bigger one continued to sob uncontrollably.

“Sorry…” Peter exclaimed backing up, “We’re looking for a guy named rob.”

The Mammoth Mexican’s head shot up and he shambled on big clumsy legs toward him, “I-I-I is R-r-rah-ob!” The Spanish Ogre chortled at him in a voice so deep it was difficult to understand.

Peter’s brow creased in confusion, “No we’re looking for a guy from my college named…” Realization and horror dawned on Peter in one terrible instant. He flushed from cock to forehead and began to sputter.

The Mexican Bodybuilder grabbed Peter’s arm and the grip was so strong and physically powerful that peter squealed in pain. “P-P-Pah-eter? I-I-it’s ME R-r-rah-ob…” A voice like a tuba said to him. He held peter tighter. Peter felt like a rag doll in the barbarians hand, “P-P-Please you g-g-gotta help me!”

Peter turned to Damien who stood in the doorway. His face was a mask of disinterest. “Damien…”

“Come along Peter,” His voice was emotionless and was all the more terrible for its lack of sympathy, “We’re done here.”

Damien turned and left.

“Pah-p-please you gotta help me!” The Rob beast was crying again. His daunting musculature shaking with panic and anxiety, “P-P-Please Peter… I want to g-g-go home.” Peter looked in dismay at the broken and desperate man in front of him. What could he do?

“I-I-I D-d-don’t know what to do…” The hulk blubbered incoherently… “W-w-what’s going on…”

Damien. Damien could fix it. Damien cast the spell… He could break it.

Peter put an apprehensive hand against the Mexican gargoyle’s damp cheek. “Don’t worry Damein’ll fix it! He’ll know what to do.” Peter turned and ran after the evading Mage.

Rob just stood planted, bawling harder into his hands, “p-P-Please c-c-come back!” He shook violently, his two ton body convulsing like a small volcano, “I w-w-Want to G-g-go home.”

“Don’t worry Javier, we just have to finish this gig and we’ll be back in LA in no time.”

Rob looked up into the reassuring and comfortably familiar eyes of Steve Conners, his Sponsor. “B-b-b-ut… I live…”

Where did he live?

Why was he crying?

He was so confused.

“Oh Javier, are you coming down off something?” Steve asked concerned.

“N-n-no…” He had sold the last of his E to some guys at the gym this morning and hadn’t packed any acid because they had flown.

“Okay, you just let me know if something is wrong. I’m here to take care of you.” He gave Rob an affectionate pat and Javier smiled back at him.

Why had he been crying?

So weird.

Steve smiled at him and he felt a lot better.

From behind him, his boyfriend Julio hugged the mass of his Lat’s affectionately.

Ya it would be good to get home, things were a lot less confusing at home in LA.

Javier and Julio followed their sponsor up to the stage, excited to earn him some money by gyrating and wiggling for all the tiny little girly men in the crowd. Javier loved to intimidate the scrawny little guys while watching them sprout hard ons. Julio rubbed his hand affectionately…

Ya it would be good to go home.


Peter Chased Damien frantically down the maze of the club’s backrooms.



“Damien Please!”

“Damien please you have to help him.”

Damien’s eyes blazed, “Weren’t you the one who said they should pay? You wanted them to get what they deserved?”

“Not like this.” Peter whispered his stomach turning.

“Oh, everybody wants to go to the party but nobody wants to pay the piper.”

“Why are you doing this anyway? Rob could go back to being the Campus Republican Bureaucrat for all you care.” Damien kept walking away, ignoring him. “You don’t give a fuck about any of this… so just make it stop… change him back.”

Peter felt that over the course of their tenure together he had seen every one of Damien’s myriad of personalities… But when the larger man rounded on him, he was face to face with a new one. Rage and wild fury blazed underneath the surface of a macabre sneer. “I need to End this Spell, so that I can cast my own from that book. I need these meat puppets to go down as fast as possible.” He spat. Peter stepped back in fear. “I can’t use the Binding Spell until this one has run its course. Meanwhile, my power is building and building like this spell is, and if I don’t Dam it up soon, little rabbit, you’re going to have a front row seat to something really cataclysmic!” He swung a bulky arm and strode away angrily.

Torn between fear and concern, Peter started running to catch up with Damien’s large purposeful strides. “Look… I’m sorry… I’m just…”

Damien wasn’t paying attention. He was gliding around a corner of one of the club’s labyrinthine hallways. He stopped, suddenly. Peter careened heavily into the broad span of his back.

Damien’s face was slack with alarm. The anger had dissipated and his big blue eyes were giant pools of shock.

He was gazing like a small child at a large man in a very finely manicured suit. He was quite possibly the most attractive man Peter had ever seen in person. He was tall, dark and handsome. Darkly handsome in a Mediterranean way. His big green eyes were staring at Damien with the same defenseless gaze.

Blue eyes met green eyes. Sparks seemed to fly in the distance between them. Heavy shoulders slumped underneath the lapel of the expensive suit, and the Large Italian man, sighed loudly, “Damien…”

Damien didn’t respond. He just stood stupefied, but then the ice melted from his eyes and a slight smile sprung up across his lips with all the warmth of a summer day, “Say it again…”

The big swarthy face erupted in a smile just as warm, “What?”

“My name… It’s been so long… Say my name again…”


The witch’s face contoured in adulation and torment. After a moment of terrible emotional turmoil, the softness Of Damien’s eyes quickly hardened and his flat expressionless veneer descended again. His hand flew up and all the lights in the hallway winked out. Peter was grabbed and hurtled through a pair of wide double doors, onto the crowded and brightly illuminated dance floor.

“Move.” Damien barked, with a quick look over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. The Big Italian was in the darkened doorway, looking frantically for the escaping witch.

“I can’t.” Peter squeaked against the crush of sweaty shirtless bodies on the dance floor.

“Oh yes you can!” He needed a distraction. Not like this. They couldn’t meet like this. He was tenuously holding onto control of his mind and magic. What was that big Goon doing in this hell hole anyway…This wasn’t how he wanted it to be…

A distraction.

He grinned broadly at the idea forming in his mind. “Oh yes you can…CAN CAN CAN!!” He shouted. The DJ’s deep house mix skipped crazily and the music seemed to lurch until it settled back down into a high octane Electronic hurricane, “EVERYBODY CANCAN!!!”

And they did.

The entire dance floor separated into a wild line of high kicking and exuberant dancing. Madcap dancers were suddenly twirling passed them in impossible formations of rowdy dance troupes. The insanity effectively opened up a clear path for their escape to the club’s front doors and cut off any pursuit.

Damien dragged peter through the insane spontaneous Dance number and they both went tumbling into the darkened street.

Gino was watching the pandemonium in horror. His heart was beating fast. He could feel his pulse thumping away at the base of his neck. He had to do something. He wanted to run to Damien, to talk with him. However his intense conditioning prevailed and he was running like a lunatic up the back stairs to Dr. Heart’s office.

He bounded through the big mahogany door. Dr. Heart was seated behind his huge intimidating desk across from another man. The two Big Latin Bodybuilders who had been contracted for the nights’ entertainment were sitting half naked and sweaty on a couch in the corner. They were panting and exhausted from jiggling for the crowd.

“Gino, how nice of you to join us.” Dr. Heart observed scathingly. “As I was saying Steven, Here’s the check.” He added the other younger man a slip.

Steve took the check tentatively, eyeing Heart like a coiled viper, “It’s not that I don’t trust you Duncan. I just always insist on getting my money up front.”

“Oh let’s be honest Steven,” Heart said standing up, “You don’t trust me.”

“Dr. Heart!” Gino couldn’t wait any longer, “He’s HERE!”

Heart gave him a dark scowl. “What?”

“Damien… he was in the club… He was downstairs.” Gino stammered impatiently.

“Steven could you give me and my…” His mouth twisted around a word that didn’t really seem to fit inside it, “… Boyfriend …a moment?”

“Sure.” Steve agreed happy to get away, “Come on Boys. I need you guys to run down to the hummer and get your other outfits. I left them in the trunk.” The Two Bodybuilders got up and trailed their sponsor like obedient puppies. Gino casually noticed that the smaller one was wearing a rhinestone encrusted jock, and the huge one was wearing just a standard athletic jock, it bulged crudely around the mass of his obscene junk.

When the door was shut with a satisfying click, Heart walked from behind his desk, and met Gino face to face. Gino cringed. He outweighed heart by at least 40lbs but he felt like a mouse in a hawk’s claws. “Now, what was so important?”

“He’s here… Damien was…” The slap came so fast that Gino was on his knees before he could finish.

There was a second fiercer blow and he was on his hands. His vision blurred with stars and pain. He felt the warm went trail of blood leaking from his nose.

Heart was casually flexing his reddened hand above him, “How many times do we have to go over this Gino? Hmmm? How many times.”

Gino wanted to answer him but his jaw was sore and his teeth ached.

“We’ve been over and over it. I don’t give a fuck what delusions you created to make yourself okay with your homosexuality, but I will not participate in your fantasies.”


The kick from the trendy Italian loafers crumpled him into a ball of quivering pain. “This “Damien”… is just a product of your imagination. A Delusion generated by your inability to come to terms with what a big fag you are. It’s not that I don’t understand that for you, a big macho traditional Italian man, it would be difficult to admit that you’re a cock crazy queer… ” He said reasonably “But I don’t frankly care.”

Gino whimpered in pain on the floor. Heart bent down and pulled his shaking face into his hands, forcing Gino to look at him. “I don’t want to hear another word about this. If I do… You go to the Box.”

Gino shuddered through the pain. Not the Box. He couldn’t go back into the box. Not the box.

“Now get up. You’re bleeding all over my rug.”


From behind the frame of his little Honda, Peter and Damien watched the semi- nude Jock-strap and go-go boot clad Hispanic muscle toys. They were ineptly rooting through the back of their Hummer. Julio was giggling like an imbecile while Javier roared gurgling retarded laughter. They grabbed two cheetah style loincloths and lumbered back toward the club.

They stopped halfway there. Javier leaned close into Julio, the sheer mass of their bodies making contact tricky.

“Te quiero Javier. Tomaré siempre el cuidado de usted no importa qué sucede.” Then the two house sized fuck toys meandered hand in paw back into the club

“Well,” Damien, sighed. “That’s actually sweet.”

Peter was craning his neck around the vast expanse of the hummer watching the muscle monsters lumber away hand in hand, “What? What did they say? I don’t understand Spanish.”

“Julio told Javier that no matter what happened he would take care of him.” Damien’s voice seemed small and far away.

“So they’re in… love?” Peter asked incredulously.

Icy Blue eyes regarded him quietly. “Apparently.”

Peter was turning the realization over in his mind and caught upon an idea. “Just like Benji and Holt are.”

“Yes.” He answered softly, “Perverse… twisted and vulgar but still… it’s love.”


Damien didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be staring at something far off in the distance.“All my spells have a silver lining. No Magic is utterly Black or completely White. There has to be a balance. Even a curse has an Element of Redemption.” Then he said so low it seemed almost a whisper, “Besides, everyone deserves to be loved… don’t they.”

Peter didn’t answer; he just looked at the Witch intently. “You know…” he thought aloud, “despite it all, you are still a decent Human Being.”

Damien shook his head and began to walk away.“It’s cute that you think that.”

“What? That I think you’re decent?” Peter laughed.

He turned around. His blue eyes positively gleamed with an eerie sapphire light, “No. That you think I’m still a Human Being.”

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