Witch Hunt: Ghost in the Machine 3-5

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Part 3

Christopher was sitting stoically. He was reading the recent financial analysis of the European markets, in his New York Times. He toyed with the egg whites on his plate. He adjusted his tie…because his neck was sore from his 5am racquetball match. All in all, it was quite a typical weekday morning.

He looked up into the Diner window to check his reflection. He surveyed the intimidatingly handsome professional face, with approval. He nicked himself shaving because of that disgusting gym’s dirty mirrors. He made a mental note to e-mail the manager. Someone should fire that lazy porter staff. He hated not having a perfectly smooth shave. His stony gaze looked out the window and saw a ridiculous young man awkwardly riding a bicycle toward the restaurant. He was gargantuan and absurdly dressed. A pair of micro-mini spandex shorts, bright orange high-tops and a stringy purple tank top. The Top had some kind of Slovakian Letters on it. His massively distorted Pecs flopped out as he rode. His disgustingly muscled body looked like a gorilla riding a tricycle.

Christopher rolled his eyes and went back to his paper. That’s what is wrong with the economy, he thought to himself. Young men too obsessed with their bodies to fully participate. It was revolting.

There was a commotion at the Hostess stand but Christopher was too engrossed to notice. The current value of the euro distracted him too much to notice the sweaty young bodybuilder approach.

He didn’t look up until, the post-adolescent, bulging, mountain of exposed flesh sat down in front of him.

“GOTT SEI DANK!” a huge bovine voice yelled at him, in odd melodic tones. The kid from the street was sitting across from him! The Kid had a huge HGH distended brow and jaw on a pretty if, if very petite face. Big Blue eyes that were the size of swimming pools looked at him gratefully. The kid’s military buzz cut was dripping sweat down his broad face. He licked his small but sensual pink lips anxiously. “Chris I need your Helfen….Auch du lieber!… I mean to say Help!” The big jaw worked itself around the English words like it was a foreign and uncomfortable language. His tiny button nose twitched in frustration. A deep blush flushed his already rosy and pudgy cheeks.

Christopher let his calm, unimpressed veneer slip completely. “Who are you?”

The juiced-up, Austrian atrocity made an exaggerated face of disappointment. “Chris! Ich Bin dien Freund! It’s me Sven! “ The muscle monster threw his hands up in a ridiculous tantrum. The fit sent his overdeveloped body into convulsions and made his distended pecs and bloated biceps bounce, “NIEN! NIEN! NIEN!” . “I AM SVEN! NIEN SVEN! SVEN SVEN!!!” He pouted like a mutated child and screamed “Verdammt!!” Christopher noticed that the stranger’s inflection and voice reminded him of the German kid from “Charlie and the chocolate factory”, Augustus Glupe. It was a head-to-toe freak show.

Christopher carefully grabbed his phone from the table and began to reach for his briefcase. He moved slowly, so the crazy kid didn’t notice. “What do you want me to do?”

The big guy sighed happily and said without hesitation. “I want you to eat my big roid ass. Yah? Make me sloppy wet? Yah?” His face melted into horror at what he had said. He quickly covered his mouth in embarrassment. As he moved, his monstrous forearms set Christopher’s coffee flying. “NIEN NIEN NIEN, Ich Will Helfen! … I want help!”

Christopher stood up, “Get away from me… you pervert.” He pointed to his IPOHNE and said “I’ll call the cops.”

The little bodybuilder stared at the phone in horror. “NO get rid of that!!! Ist das BOSE!!! Das BOSE!!!”

Christopher shook his head in confused disgust then made his escape.

Sven tried to follow… but as he stood up, his massive body tipped over the table. He spilled coffee down the front of his itty- bitty, little leotard shorts. “Ohhh… Sven make Schlect! I mean Sven Make bad!” He whined in his loud, nasal, trumpeting voice.

A few of the waitresses watched the whole scene. They started giggling and pointing. Inside Steven was cringing in shame. Sven felt a rush of pride… and sexual euphoria from making them laugh… and being humiliated. It was sick and erotic. He gave them a big idiot smile and flexed a bicep. “Mädchen wie Muskeln? Yah? Yah?“

They stopped smiling and looked away quickly. Sven realized that he was sporting a huge woody in his little shorts. “OUCH NIEN!” he pouted. The humiliation of his obscene bulge, made his face flush and his heart race excitedly. He tried not to grin as he waddled his big ass out of the restaurant. His huge arms struggled to shield his raging dong with his hands.

When he got onto the street, Christopher was gone.

The IPHONE in his ostentatiously colored fanny-pack chimed. He anxiously pawed for it.


3pm- 544 West Randal Dr.

Client Name: Max

NOTES: Bitte gehen Sie auf den Hinterhof

Sven had a terrible feeling that no matter what he wanted to do; he was going to be at that address. He looked at the bike in dread. He was going to have to ride that silly little bike the whole way across town, with these huge muscles and these ridiculous clothes. He groaned, but his dick twitched in humiliated excitement.

Christopher stood outside his office and watched the lunatic ride away. He watched the gargantuan muscles of the man’s ass hump the seat up and down aggressively. The meathead looked like a bear at the circus. If he had a sense of humor he would have laughed. Steven would probably have been laughing his head off… STEVEN! Steven hadn’t met him for their morning meeting.

Christopher began to write a very terse e-mail regarding the missed appointment and his professionalism… when the phone Chimed with an E-mail update.


Dear Sir,

It is a requirement of your probation to enroll in anger management classes and attend a victim’s relief forum. Please contact your Probation officer to schedule these appointments.

List of Charges: Assault, Vandalism, resisting arrest, public drunkenness and disturbing the peace.

Thank you for your attention to this matter

County Corrections .

Christopher looked at his phone with an unpleasant smirk. This was just perfect. On top of the bizarre bodybuilder accosting him, and Steven being insubordinate… now he was getting some reprobate’s e-mail? He felt a deep surge of irritation rise out of his stomach and quickly repressed the urge to shout at the phone.

He adjusted his tie to calm himself and walked into the lobby of his office. He didn’t even notice that on his way in, he had irritably and uncharacteristically kicked at a waste bin and sent it flying.

The lobby was a throng of suits and high heels that were rushing into elevators. He was usually a casual surfer on this tide of human labor, but today… today it was taking all his control not to shove or elbow at the other men who jostled and pushed him.

By the time he got to an elevator, he was breathing heavy and barely able to stop sucking his teeth in irritation. Several other men ran to join him. Christopher angrily hit the “Dlose Door” button and secured himself a few minutes to compose himself.

He quietly enjoyed the silence, until the Phone chimed and broke his peace.

Hey, Fire-crotch… hot pic!!!

Christopher was confused.

What was scruff?

Fire crotch?

He ignored it.

Must be a glitch.

He stood in the elevator and mused about how this was the weirdest morning of his life. It was on the ride up, that he noticed a burning warmth, coming from his groin. His clean shaven balls, and manicured pubes seemed to emanate an erotic heat. He coughed uncomfortably and adjusted his pant leg.

Right before the doors opened the phone announced,


Chris grabbed the phone. Download? He hadn’t downloaded anything. He opened his music program. Dammit! This phone was broken! His entire library of classical music and his collection of grunge rock was gone. ITUNES had replaced it all with … Toby Keith? Garth Brooks? Travis Tritt? Country music? Oh god. What was wrong with this phone? There was also a group of Comedy Albums with Jeff Foxworthy, Ron White… Larry the Cable guy? He was going to have to delete the entire program! Fury erupted from the pit of his belly and roared with abandon into his fists. He punched the door several times. He was irate with an uncontrollable rage. It didn’t abate until his knuckles were bruised and the door was dented.

The elevator door opened. He shoved the piece of shit phone into his pocket. The tingling sensation in his genitals continued to his office. He struggled to avoid groping himself. It was such an odd… pleasant feeling.. It was really distracting and intense.

He shut his office door. He ignored his ideas of dignity and ripped down his zipper.

“HOLY Shi-YIT!” He yelled. His mind froze. What did he just say? Worse yet! What the fuck was going on beneath his belt?

Since he was 18, Christopher had maintained the same pubic grooming. It had always been an immaculately shaved flesh and a trimmed subtle swath of fuzz above his shaft. He pulled down the band of his Armani briefs. A huge forest of curling and unruly hair erupted. His balls and pubic bone had a huge mane the reached down beneath his legs like a beard! And… it was orange! Nappy and light orange! His pubes had all gone red!

He stared in horror at his genitals. The speaker phone on his desk buzzed, “Christopher, The VP’s want to see you in the conference room.”

Without thinking, he barked, “You tell dem der queers, to keep their panties on!”


He ran to the phone, “Er… Ill be there quick as a lick, sugar tits.”


He slammed the phone down and awkwardly tried to shave his big bush back behind his designer pants. He grabbed the client portfolios on his desk and ran to the conference room.

On the way his phone chimed.


“Damn buddy! Had a great time at your kegger! Can’t believe how much you can drink!!!”

Christopher fumbled with the phone, but didn’t have time to check his FB. What post? Kegger? As soon as he was out of this meeting, he was going straight to IT.

He quietly took a seat around the table of executives. They were all engrossed in a discussion about current interest rates, so they didn’t notice him. He was grateful. He switched the IPHONE to vibrate. He thought that would end this nightmare. But, as soon as he did, it began to shake with a notice:

Your Item: Lot #7354, Has Received six bids. Click to check highest bid.

What? He hadn’t tried to sell anything on E-bay since he got rid of the wine rack his step mother bought him for Christmas. He covertly clicked the link.

ITEM #7354
Used jock, Worn 7 days straight. Rank. Stank. Cum stained and ready for sale!

Christopher’s eyes got big with disgust and he shut his browser in horrified shock. He sank into his chair and tried not to be noticed. The meeting droned on and he suddenly had two very big problems. First he had to piss. His already fiery and sensitive dick was now tight and uncomfortable. He felt like he had to relieve himself of 18 gallons. Damn. His body fidgeted with the need to let loose a water tank. The second was: he stank. He had showered after racquetball. He had applied his GQ cologne. He had done his usual saltwater body scrub. This was impossible!

It was undeniable. There was a smell like a locker room hovering around him. Other people in the meeting were noticing it too. They were sniffing and looking around the room. The smell was pungent. It had the ripe twang of body odor and the deep musk of dried sex. Christopher shrank further into his chair, which just made the smell worse. His bladder felt like it was going to burst. The stress of his tingling groin, his heavy bladder and the deep stench made him start to sweat… which made everything terribly worse. Christopher never perspired. He was cool as ice and barely broke a sweat working out. Now he was pouring sweat from every pore. The rank smell was now joined with the scent of stale beer. His sweat smelled like a Frat-boys hang over. The man next to him mumbled, “I guess someone had a wild night.”

Something about the way the men near him were shifting and uneasy caught his attention. The sight of the well groomed businessman fidgeting to avoid the awkward smell… was turning him on. On top of a bladder ready to burst, his dick was starting to throb with excitement. Christopher was so uncomfortable. His dress shirt was soaked in sweat. He smelled awful. His dick didn’t know whether to get hard or piss all over the table.

The VP of Acquisitions got about and began to make a power point presentation about the quarter’s profit and loss ratios. Christopher’s Phone trembled in his hand. The entire room was focus on the presentation, so Christopher sneaked a glance at the screen.


The Phone flashed onto the link. There was a grainy picture of someone swinging a thick snowy cock at a camera. There was suddenly the sound of men moaning and body’s slapping. Christopher started with shock and shoved the phone into his pocket. The men next to him could hear the barely muffled sounds of men fucking like animals. Their eyebrows rose in confused revulsion and scanned the room for the source. Christopher’s dick throbbed happily.

The phone vibrated.

He wanted to ignore it…

He was desperate to ignore it…

But it was shaking his abdomen and made his need to urinate unbearable! He grabbed the phone.


What the hell was this “Scruff” App? Who the hell or what the hell was: Ging’s? He didn’t know what the hell any of it meant.

“Christopher,” the VP of Acquisitions said, noticed his confused face, “Are you feeling well. You look very pale.”

Christopher let out a sigh of relief, ” I Gotta piss like a racehorse!”

The VP. lowered his glasses, “I beg your pardon.

Before he could stop himself Christopher hollered, “I’ll tell ya what’s begging. My lizard is begging to be drained. SHI-YIT I gotta get to da shitter ‘for I rain all over this table.”

The entire room gasped at the same time.

Christopher’s face was hot with shame. His crotch was hot with sensation. His kidneys were hot with the need to be released. His body was hot with the smell of a trash heap. He rolled his eyes in bewildered disbelief. He convulsed with the pressure in his belly. He jumped up from the table and ran down the hall to the men’s room.

His semi-hard dick leaked a dribbling stream into the furry mane of his huge orange pubes. He ran to the urinal and unleashed a fire hose worth of piss. His dick spewed like a volcano for about 5 minutes. Christopher stared in sweat-drenched confusion at his orange mantled dick.

He suddenly realized where the awful stench was coming from. His Armani briefs were gone. He was wearing a ridiculous Wal-Mart brand Jock strap. It was white. Well it had once been white. It was brown and stained with use. It smelled like it had been worn by an entire soccer team and never been washed. Christopher gagged.

The Phone Chimed again.

“Gi-yod Damn! What now!”


To: RED-HOT COUNTRY-FRIED DOM Sir, This worthless sub would love to be your cash slave and be used for your pleasure. Please dominate me and make me suffer like the unworthy pig I am.

“Fucking Goose Grease!” He yelled.

“Christopher! What is going on?” One of the Reps from Investments asked, as he rushed into the men’s room. He was a younger guy, cookie-cutter handsome and shorter then Christopher.

Christopher turned. He was wild eyed and angry. He growled at the other young business man. His hands were holding his phone and his dick flopped against his leg.

“Good lord, you’re exposing yourself.” The young man said, “Zip-up for christ’s sake!”

“Why doncha crawl ova here and do it with your tongue, bitch?” Christopher blurted out


He slipped the phone away and fumbled with his fly. The other man’s obvious discomfort was making the pale dick throb with enthusiasm. It was now full mast and unmanageable. The man was getting more uneasy… Christopher was just getting harder. He struggled with his unruly anatomy, “Dammit get back into your Holster ya big damn Deer killer.”

“Why are you talking like that?!”

Christopher scowled at the other employee, “Donchu worry none bout my mouth. What I’m wandering is where your gab was, when I was wasting my keg leak. I shoulda been giving your man-pussy a bath!”

“Are you on drugs?!” The other man accused as he backed toward the door. “You’re paler then a ghost!” the guy stalked angrily out of the bathroom.

The terrified and haggard banker looked at the mirror. They were right! He was pale...VERY pale. His ruddy Jewish complexion was now a stark white. His skin looked like porcelain. He put one shaking hand up and marveled at its pasty sheen. He was so frazzled he was ready to cry. He started breathing deep. “Shy-it buddy, you got ta man up.” He said out loud. He looked into the bathroom mirror with terror. He was talking crazy even when he was alone!

His reflection in the mirror was wrong!

His eyebrows were now a light shade of cinnamon red. His meticulous hair was ruffled and had a definite copper orange yew. His dark black hair was now the long lush locks of a red-head who hadn’t seen a barber in months. His clean shaved face was heavy with carroty scruff. His pallid skin was covered with swirls of brown and orange freckle. His creamy flesh was a mosaic of auburn dots and fiery hair.

Ginger! That was slang for red-heads right?

God he had to get out of here. He had to get to a doctor.

He bolted for the Elevator.

“Christopher, where are you going?” The VP of Acquisitions called after him.

“Ill tell you what! You Mind your own shit, ya mule.” He fell back against the elevator door as it shut. The elevator began to descend. The phone chimed.


FROM: I-Pharm:

Dear Customer, we are just writing to remind you of our Fall discounts and to make sure you received your previous order.

Order #389

Mass X Weight Gain Formula
Deca and Dbol Bulking Cycle
Creatine Mass infusion
T-boost Testosterone booster
Oral bulking complex
Athletes Foot Crème
Jock Itch Crème

Christopher only had a moments warning before he doubled over in pain.

He crumpled to the elevator floor, clutching his pulsing body. The IPHONE fell in front of him. He moaned in agony.

It chimed again.


He roared as he felt his suit jacket rip from its sockets. His Shoulders surged outward. The buttons on his shirt burst off as his chest inflated into giant mounds of pudgy muscled pecs. His upper body spread until he was broad as a barn. His knees buckled and he felt his legs shudder and expand.

It chimed again.


He flopped like a fish and screamed, as the seams of his pants split.


“AHHH SHY-it” his crazy words were now coming out in a deep drawl. He felt his belt burst underneath the weight of his rapidly expanding abdomen. “Ah Shy-it balls, I’m swelling up like a lousiana Tick on a bloodhound…” He twanged.

The phone chimed again.


Christopher struggled to his knees and his now massive thighs split right out of the pants. Big trunks of chubby white muscle flesh burst out underneath him. “Ho Je-uhs! Look at dem der Shit-kickers!” he fell backward unready for the weight of his chunky quads. The shirt and jacket split in half as his back spread out wide underneath him. He felt his big pale belly flop hard against the ground. He felt his weight spread out like an inflating raft, clothes stretched and ripped as he felt his taunt muscles swell and bulge. His body fat throbbed around them, in a fleshy covering of marshmellow colored skin.

He let out a loud belch and felt his ass push out, and slap against the bands of the jock. “Ah Shy-it on toast.” He swore.

The phone chimed.

Nice Profile ASSHOLE! Why are all tops, short guys with bad attitudes?!”

Christopher threw the pone away from him. His body shuddered with another massive shockwave. His center of gravity Shifted. The pressure in the suit shifted. He shuddered with a terrible sense of compression. He twisted and groaned as his whole body felt like it was being pressed in a vice.

The phone chimed.

Christopher curled into a puffy ball. He laid trembling in a suit that was now too big and in other places too small. The remnants of his expensive wardrobe hung tattered against his swollen body. He was so glad he couldn’t see the Phone.

Suddenly the Voice of SIRI the Phones AI spoke in passionless monotone.


Beyond any rational thought and in a state of supreme shock, Christopher reached for the phone. He was ready to vomit as he looked at a picture of a hugely muscled and brawny red head in a hunting cap. The big beefy guy was wearing a Budweiser t shirt and overalls. The sleeves had been ripped off so the massive arms could be displayed bare. There was a beer can in his hand and he was throwing the middle finger.

The guy looked like he could be a distant cousin of Christopher’s. Apart from the calico coloring, he looked vaguely alike. The eyebrows were far too bushy and the brow was far too heavy, though. The nose looked as if it had been broken several times. It was crooked and had a distinct knot. The nostrils were bulbous and round with old bruising. Worst of all, the smile was ventilated. The guy had a broad mischievous grin above his thick athletic neck. The grin however was noticeably missing a tooth, which the goober displayed proudly. His wide jaw was covered in a beard of peachy peach-fuzz.

Height: 5’7
Weight: 200
Looking for: Slutty Bottoms who need ta be bred
Location: U S of Fucking A

Christopher felt the Elevator lurch. He stood up awkwardly and grabbed the guide rail. His suit dangled like strips of bandage. His pants had split like a grass skirt. His shoes were far too big for his feet. He stepped into the parking lot barefoot. It was difficult to walk with his huge legs, wide back and now much lower eyeline. The whole world felt different. His thick belly rolled against the broken belt. Orange Fur and white flesh poked out everywhere. He stumbled under the strain of the compressed weight. He felt so much wider. His new eye-level was giving him vertigo. Christopher barked in anger and fell forward.

“HEY!” a voice yelled from above him. A security stood in front of him.

“Whatcha lookin at rent-a-cop?!” Christopher yelled.

“You can’t be here dressed like that!” the guard yelped in surprise. He sniffed the air as Christopher struggled to stand, “Are you drunk?”

“..Piss off..” Christopher grumbled. He gave the guard a quick once over. The guy was in his 40’s taller than Chris’s now shrunken height. He had broad shoulders and a sexy rotund beer belly. His legs were long underneath a nice, fat man-ass. He was handsome in a common, weathered way. His shaved skull lead into a nice little goatee. He should have been intimidating… but all Christopher felt was an erotic rush. This was one big heifer. He felt himself form a crooked grin, “Shy-it, you got a nice big rump on you, ya big fucker. Bet it’s been awhile since anyone took that man-cunt out ta stud.”

“That’s it, buddy! I’m taking you out of here,” the big guard announced. He lunged for Christopher. Suddenly Christopher felt completely comfortable in his body. His bulky frame moved with athletic reflex and trained control. He dodged the quard, gripped the guys arm and forced him to the ground in a swift, sweeping wrestling move. He held the taller man down and straddled his big fat ass. His arm snaked around the other man’s neck and held him tight.

“SUE-IE!!” Christopher yelled. He began to grind his filthy jock against the plump polyester covered man-butt. “C’mon Bessy, tell me how much you want this babymaker in ya!”

“…Please…” The big guy moaned, “You’re hurting me.”

Christopher looked down at the raging erection and the angry veins popping along his muscled arms. He fell of the guard and backed away in terror. What was he doing? He stared at the defeated man and couldn’t stop imaging that ripe middle aged ass buckling under his cock. He whimpered in confusion and made a quick retreat.

He stumbled through the lot toward his beamer. He had to get out of here to get to his doctor. Maybe a specialist? This was completely illogical. There was no scientific reason for any of this. He just needed to calm down and trouble shoot a solution using all the available Data. He would call IT, see his doctor… he knew a few physics majors from the university maybe they could…

The Phone Chimed.

He leaned his massive but diminutive body against a car. He reluctantly looked at what horrible delusion he was going to suffer next.


He shook with fear for a moment and then opened the E-mail.

Dear sophomore,

We regret to inform you that, due to your poor academic performance and inability to improve during your academic probation, we have been forced to rescind your Wrestling Scholarship and expel you from the current semester. Be advised that you will be eligible for re-enrollment after meeting standard criteria from another accredited university.

Thank you,

Office of the Registrar
Remington University

Uhm? Huh? What’d that mean?

He wasn’t in college. HE already graduated college? Didn’t he? Yeah. He did. It was so hard to think. Shit what had he been doing?

Wasn’t he going somewhere?



He had to figure this out.

Why was his brain so slow?

… it was like syrup.

…Thick like moonshine.

….Solid like cow paddys.

…. Dense like his dick fur.

… Heavy like his bazooka arms.

….Slicker then jizz on a steering wheel.

…Damn. Shit. Fuck. “Fuh-kin’ hate it when ahm shit for brains!” He yelled and thumped his skull with an angry fist.


Scruff Profile Updated.

The LIL RED profile picture had changed. Now the massive short guy… was younger!!! He was baby-faced beneath his freckles and scruffy beard. His imposing muscled; athlete’s bulk was covered in chubby and sexy baby-fat. The hick’s face was now round and cherubic. The twinkle in his eyes was youthful and mischievous. The innocent eyes that glittered beneath the healed bruises and mangled features were deceptively playful.

Height: 5’5
Weight: 218
Looking for: Slutty Bottoms who need ta be bred
Location: U S of Fucking A

Christopher practically lurched forward. The fire in his crotch had become a fire in his brain. It felt like it was burning everything away. Shit. Fuck. Damn. He slammed his fist into a pillar. Shit. Fuck. Damn.

What was he doing? Where was his car? Damn he was hungry.

His phone beeped. His sweet young face skewered in confusion. It didn’t chime? It beeped. Oh yeah. Beeps meant a text message.

WEASEL: Yo dude buddy. Heard bout u getting booted. Fucking sucks! u still going to the game? We were planning on Tailgating from your Truck.


He didn’t have a…

He looked at where his beamer should have been and stared dumbly at a big cherry red pickup truck. He walked toward the truck like a zombie. He turned his key in the lock. It opened. The cab smelled of beer, man stink and acne cream.

He crawled up into the high frame. His big body hardly fit behind the wheel. His feet barely touched the pedals. What was he doing? He was so confused. Was he drunk? Again? What? No. he didn’t drink. What happened to his clothes? He scanned the cab floor and was relieved to see a pile of dirty laundry by the passenger seat. A ripped t-shirt. Thick wranglers. Overalls. A pair of boots. Other shit too. Trash, condoms, lube, a wrestling singlet. Lotion… shit it looked like he lived out of this fucking nasty hillbilly wagon…

The phone buzzed.

3pm- 544 West Randal Dr.
Client Name: Max
NOTES: Please go to the backyard.

Christopher put the keys in the ignition.

He was angrily scratching his crotch and sniffing his fingers, while he zoomed across town, blindly heading toward the address.


Part 4

Sven parked his bike on the front lawn of the address. It was a huge estate size house surrounded by several acres. He was coating in a thin layer of sweat, making his muscles glisten and shine the way they did when he was on stage for a competition. Sven’s mind blurred with confusion. He had so many memories of different bodybuilding competitions and physique shoots where his big muscles were greased and oiled for optimum presentation...But it seemed wrong. He could almost remember an office or a thin little banker. It was all very confusing.

He tugged self-consciously at the tiny legs of his little lycra shorts. There was a thin trickle of erotic sweat dripping into his deep ass crack… and it was driving him wild. He grunted and adjusted the strings on his baggy tank top. He discovered on the ride over that the downturned nipples on his massive pecs were extremely sensitive. Every time one of the strings brushed his exposed pecs, he felt a deep tingle in his groin and almost fell off his bike.

He trudged around to the back of the house. A large, well cared for lawn spread in front of him. Three men sat around a patio table, relaxing and having drinks in the sun.

They were middle aged and each was generically handsome. They wore designer clothes and had deep fake tans. Sven judged there muscular-but- slim physiques; as middle aged gym rats.

They all smiled expectantly at him.

Sven was at a loss for any response. He grinned and said “Gutten Tag!”

One of the men giggled, “Oh my gawd Jim! You were right he’s just like something off of mymusclevideo.com!”

Jim, a dark haired man, with broad shoulders and a tiny waist, stood up. His hairline was receding and he had crow’s feet on the edges of his hungry eyes. He was darkly handsome and moved with a predatory grace. His purple V-neck displayed round little pecks and his dark jean shorts exposed his hairy thighs. “Gentlemen, this is Sven. He’s here to take care of my bush.” All three men laughed and rubbed their groins.

“Vas?” Sven mumbled.

Jim came forward and pointed to a wheelbarrow full of gardening equipment, “You’re boss dropped off your tools, this morning. We’ve been looking forward to your visit all day.” He turned back to his horny buddies. “Haven’t we, guys?”

The phone in his fanny pack chimed and Sven groped like a gorilla for it.


Sven struggled with the English text message and wondered who Topher was?

“SVEN PRUNE?” The roided up juice-boy asked, as he grabbed a pair of sheers.

Jim nodded, “Oh yeah… but why don’t you come have a drink first, big guy?”

Sven smiled and followed him to the table. His two companions glared at him with undisguised lust. On the patio table was a flyer. It had a man flexing a bicep and the words. “RED-HOT MANSCAPING: We give you something to whistle at, while we work.” Sven smiled at the flyer. It was vaguely familiar.

Sven felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “Wow, you are a big one, aren’t you?”

Sven nodded as he chugged down a bottle of water. “Yah, I am 116 kilos!”

One of the two seated men ran an eager hand over Sven’s pumped thigh, “Oh…your soooo European..” his smile was creepy, “do you measure your little muscle dick in centimeters?”

Sven blushed, “Mein Schwanz is not little.” He announced.

The guy laughed, “Oh c’mon Arnold. We all know that bodybuilders have little dicks.”

Jim came up from behind him and slapped one of his mammoth ass cheeks, “..and that’s why you’re all such major power bottoms.” The humiliation of the men laughing at his dick size and the slap on his rump was making Sven really uneasy…but it was also making him hot with erotic embarrassment. He felt his traitorous cock start to plump behind the tight spandex. The Austrian bodybuilder quickly adjusted the gaudy fanny pack to hide his erection.

Jim put eager hands on Sven’s shoulders. “Oh, no need to hide that… we’re all friends here.”

Sven was pink and agitated, “I am told to work. I should be working.”

Jim rolled his eyes and pouted. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine.” Then he smiled brightly. “But, while you’re here…could you take a look at the grout under the table? I think it might become loose….”

Sven obliged happily. He awkwardly got down on his hands and knees, his overgrown body moved comically. His round planet shaped ass was displayed invitingly. The lycra strained and the sweat stains on his crack presented the perfect picture of his best assets. All three men stared and groaned as the silly bodybuilder looked at the ground.

Jim couldn’t resist the temptation and pounced on the massive Adonis. He shoved his crouch at the giant, wide, bull’s-eye of lycra. “NIEN!” Sven pleaded.

Jim growled and bent down to whisper in the foreign stud’s ear. “I hear that juicing makes your tit’s super sensitive…” he reached under Sven’s distended chest and tweaked his exposed nipples with a firm grip.

Sven moaned excitedly and clenched his as cheeks together in pleasure, “ohhhhhhhhh….Shiese…”

Jim continued to rub himself lewdly against the giant rump, and twisted the big man-tits, “oh yeah, you like that… you like it…,” he started groping at the waistband of Sven’s shorts… “I’ve seen your musclecam… ya juiced up slut… and now, I want a private show…”

Sven whimpered in shame, “Bitte Stoppen? Please stop… Bitte? Please?” he felt Jim’s ravenous hands fondle his every bulging muscle. The other men got up with greedy looks. Jim’s molesting became more aggressive and his groin was now bouncing off Sven’s distended glutes. “…Bitte.” Jim just laughed and kept dry humping him

…Suddenly the picnic table went flying and Jim was ripped off of him, “I’ll give yer a God damn show… a god damn Gun Show.” A freckled forearm, with bristly orange hair was tightening around Jim’s neck. A heavily muscled Red-headed kid was standing with a look of pure rage. The short but intimidating thug held Jim in an unyielding choke-hold. The young guy was thick with pale strength. He wore a pair of tattered overalls and a dirty wifebeater. His shaggy red curls were pulled behind a tattered ballcap. The gaped tooth grin was wild and excited. “Boss texted me…said you might need some help dealin with the manure…” He gave Jim a shove and he fell to the ground. “Looks like a pile of shit fer sure.”

“Danke” Sven burbled, and stood up bashfully.

“Who are you…?” Jim asked as he crawled backward.

“Topher.” The ginger hunk spat. “Ya’ll owe us money. Pay up.”

“We’re not giving you a dime… you’re FIRED.”

Topher’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He put his meaty arms across his broad chest. “Ahm fixin ta go ta ma truck and “Fire”, my shotgun at every window in your house, bitch.” He grabbed Jim by the front of his V-neck and manhandled him roughly, “You know the rules. We let you faggots watch us sweat and work, but you don’t touch.” Topher’s muscles bulged angrily, “You broke em. Now pay, or I break you.”

Jim scrabbled in his wallet and threw a pile of cash at Topher’s feet. “Thank ya kindly.” Topher nodded for Sven to grab the cash. Topher took ahold of the wheelbarrow. “Yer lucky I ain’t feelin like hearin cats scream, or I’d tell mah boss watchu gone done.”

All three guys got tense with fear.

Topher gave Sven’s big ass a swat, “C’mon ya big Kraut. Let’s get this in my truck and git er done.”

Sven smiled warmly. His dick was throbbing in his shorts and his heart was in his throat. He stared at his short savior with unbridled sycophantic lust.

They piled the tools and Sven’s bike in the back of the pick-up truck.

As they drove, Sven sat quietly in the big cab and Topher kept his intense green eyes on the road. They rode in silence for a while, until unable to control himself, Sven plopped his hand in Topher’s lap. Topher smiled affectionately and pushed Sven’s prodding fingers against the length of his denim covered cock. Sven felt a rush of friendship and comfort. He let his fingers feel the girth and size of the other man’s impressive dickhead. Topher grinned, “You trying ta tell me yah need something.” He laughed. “You need a nice thick prod up that German cattle chute?”

Sven rubbed the girth of his smooth thighs together expectantly, “Yah…yah.”

Topher nodded.

He pulled the truck into an empty field, surrounded by heavy tree line. The sun was just going down and the sky was bright with oranges that mirrored his complexion. Sven looked at him with desperate blue eyes. Topher smiled. They both climbed out of the Truck. Sven began to self-consciously pose and flex his muscles. He was desperately trying to make his big muscles bulge to impress the bulky red-head. Topher lead him to the truck bed and put down the gate. He pulled a dirty comforter from the tool chest and laid it cross the bed of the truck. Sven was twitching and sweating with rigid excitement. His big Austrian lungs heaved with short anxious breaths.

Topher watched the big steer suffer in anticipation for a minute or two, before he stroked a gentle hand down Sven’s ear, “Shhhh… “ he commanded gently, “calm down… big guy…calm down.”

Sven let his head roll in affectionate pleasure. Topher grabbed Sven by the ears and pulled the taller boy down into a rough kiss. Topher’s lips devoured Sven’s pert little mouth. Topher tightened his grip and whispered in Sven’s ear. “You gotta tell me what ya want. I ain’t no damn mind reader. What’s that german pecker want?”

Sven blanched, “I errr want to a fuken?”

Topher chuckled a hard belly laugh. He dropped the straps of his overalls and revealed his unruly bush of red pubes and the big curved thickness of his swollen cock. He stood in the field naked from the waist down. His plump milky thighs were spread defiantly as he stepped out of the denim work clothes. The site of the bulky body nude except for a dirty wifebeater and a hat, drove Sven wild. He stared at the engorged rod of his newfound hero and immediately reached out to stroke it.

Topher slapped the bodybuilder’s hand away. “Mind your manners now.” The sturdy rough neck traced the line of the bodybuilder, as he examined the Austrian muscle god. “We gotta git ya all nice and ready for milkin.” His voice got firm with command. “What do you want?”

Sven trembled under the pressure and humiliation of having to declare his aching desire. He timidly trumpeted, “I Vat you to Eat my big ass. I vat you to twist my fat nipples.” His face was beat red, and his shorts were tented. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Topher moved close, until his engorged cock pushed into Sven’s taunt cobblestone abs. “See, now that was easy.” He cajoled. “Now…” Topher said as he nibbled on Sven’s enlarged neck. “Git ur ass Nekkid and on that truck bed, so I can eat your pussy.”

Sven ripped out of his clothes and scrambled onto the truck bed. He panted with expectation and presented his giant butt.


Sven instinctively hit the link and turned don his webcam. He propped the phone on a tire well and had just enough time to steady himself before he felt Topher’s hot and bumpy tongue licking at his hole. “OH MIEN GOTT!” Topher forced his scruffy face into the warm crevice and slathered Sven’s asshole in spit. Sven bucked and moaned in pleasure. “MIEN GOTT!!!” He moaned. “Eat my BEEFY ASS!” he humped the air and let his dick dangle beneath his rigid abdomen. “OH yeah… Rim me deep. Ich LEIBE! Ich liebe!”

The horny hillbilly smothered himself into the depths of the muscled man butt. He licked and tongued the pink, hairless bud and slobbered all over bodybuilder’s manhole. Spit ran down Sven’s legs and Topher pushed his bearded face hard against the powerlifting rear. Sven fell forward onto the truck bed, squealing with pleasure and yammering German gibberish.

Topher’s voice came muffled from between the ass-pillows, “Oh yeah… your pussy is ready…your all hot for it….”


Topher propped his phone up on the trailer hitch and hit record. This was definitely getting posted to X-tube! He crawled behind the pumped and primed beefcake and positioned his fuck rod at the dripping ass. He reached under Sven’s enormous body and gripped both the big nipples, pulling down the stud’s pecs like utters. Sven practically mooed in pleasure. Topher rubbed the bulbous head of his cock against the roided butt. “Yeah buddy… gonna breed ya hard… got your cunt all wet and ready ..now im gonna spill my balls all up in your gut.” He growled. “He slapped the big rump, “Git ya preggers.”

Sven began to fuck the air in anticipation, grinding Topher’s hands harder on his muscle teets. “Bitte Topher, Bitte Topher,” he mewed.

Topher steadied his big frame and plunged into his partner. “OHHHHH SHY-IT!” He roared, and began to furiously pump his dip stick in and out. Sven bobbed back and forth fucking himself on the big dick. Topher gripped his huge pecs and plowed deeper. They moved like animals desperately fucking. The sunset as Topher rammed and Sven shuddered. The night sky was starting to twinkle with stars as Sven flipped over. Topher dove back into his gaping leaky fuck hole. They bucked and rocked the truck. Sven’s dick dribbled cum for the pounding of his prostate. His colossal chemically enhanced body shook with internal orgasms…every muscle bulging and tense. Topher roared and pounded his fist onto the truck bed as his cock convulsed inside the Austrian ass cavity. He slobbered and yelled as he sprayed his cum deep into the other man. They both collapsed onto one another in utter exhaustion. They succumbed to the dark unconsciousness of post orgasm bliss, holding each other tightly.

Both phones chimed.



Part 5

Red yawned and opened his eyes.

Hank's naked body lay sprawled against him. His beefy lover’s head lay on his powerful hairy chest. “Morning baby,” Red cooed.

Hank smiled a sleepy grin, “Morning baby…”

Red felt his kidneys burn, and gently moved his manly teddy bear off of him, “Be right back, baby,” He whispered and kissed hank’s forehead. He stumbled into the hallway and toward the bathroom. The door was closed and he could here another bladder being released. He scowled and tried not to do the “pee-pee” dance.

The door opened and Topher gave him a big smile. “Hey Big Red!” The young red-neck barked.

Red smiled back, “Hey lil Red.” Eric Redman assessed his nephew’s furry muscled body with appreciation. Both men stood grinning at their muscled man bodies and tighty-whiteys. Sigh, the kid was family, but if he wasn’t…

Topher grimaced and kicked his feet, “Ah sure am sorry bout the otha day Unc’s. Ah Didn’t mean ta loose dat der job for ya.”

Red pushed passed him and let loose his big schlong. He pissed with the door wide open. “Don’t worry about it. I knew that guy was a sleaze, and I know how you Hatfield’s and your tempers are. You take care of your business. I respect that.”

“That faggot shoulda neva touched mah man. Shucks, Unc. You shoulda seen dat der queen’s face.” He barked, “Lord, but I thought he just bout shit his pants.”

Both men laughed and Red slapped his nephew on the back. They lumbered back to their respective rooms. Red could hear Sven mumbling dreamily as he shut the door. It was bad for business if Topher got rough with the customers… but their landscaping business was going so well, it wasn’t going to break the bank. He didn’t know where he got the idea for “RED HOT MANSCAPING” but it was a cash cow. Every bored house wife, and voyeuristic queer in the tri-county area was trying to buy some time from Red and his house of studly manual laborers. It was genius.

Red’s dong bobbed eagerly at the sight of Hank sprawled out naked across the bed. He was ready to mount that furry butt. Hank let out a contented snore. Red smiled ruefully and reconsidered. He slipped on a pair of jeans, let his dick and balls hang loose in the denim and stepped quietly out of the room.

As he passed Sven and Topher’s room, he heard the bed crashing against the wall and Sven yodeling like a madman. Ah… ta be young dumb and full of cum. His nephew really lucked out in the boyfriend department. Sven’s body was majestic and he had a hole as hungry as “Lil Red’s” breeder was insatiable.

Red trudged downstairs in serenity. He floated in a mellow fog of happy contentment. He was in such a righteously good mood; he resolved to make breakfast for his man and his boys. Life was good: and now it was gonna smell like bacon and taste like pancakes! Hope “LIL” Red still had an appetite after eating all that muscle butt.

He quietly started humming, “Let’s do the time warp again…”. He swaggered into the kitchen… and stopped dead.

In the center of the tiled room, looking exactly as he did two days ago, stood Damien Vaughn. The young man was staring sadly at the empty kitchen table and its empty chairs. His crystal eyes were entranced with a deep contemplation.

“You’re back.”

His mystic ex-roommate didn’t look up, just sarcastically muttered, “Like poltergeist.”

Red’s mind was jumbled and he found it difficult to fully recall the details of their last meeting. It was like there were two sets of memories and his brain couldn’t focus on either. It was a feeling he had only ever had once before… he was experienced enough not to probe further.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Damien’s unblinking gaze met his, “I used to wait here for him.” He whispered. “He thought I would just conveniently be awake when he came home from clubbing…. But I’d wait. He’d leave… and I’d come down here, with one of my books, and just wait…” Damien’s eyes got far away. A desolate smile formed on his face. “We’d eat cereal and laugh… He’d make fun of me… I’d insult him… sometimes we’d stay up till sunrise just talking and laughing…”

Red could hear the sorrow in his voice, “He knew you did, Damien… That’s why he stopped hooking up with guys. He couldn’t not come home… he didn’t want to miss it.”

Big blue eyes stared at him with a simple soulful sincerity, and admitted “I was happy here Red.”

Red wasn’t going to entertain this maudlin nonsense anymore. “He was in love with you.”

“… I know.”

Red thought of how much he loved Hank, about how life changing and irreplaceable that was. “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

The kid let his bangs fall in front of his face, “I was young… insecure… too dumb…” He looked away and angrily added, “I’m my own worst enemy sometimes…”

“I still see Gino. We hangout every so often… would you like me to tell him something?”

“No.” the blue eyes fixed on him. “Now we need to talk about Price. You have money. You have your house. You have two extra renters and a new source of income. You have everything you need.” The voice grew confident and stern, “Now… we will talk about what I need.”

Eric “Red” Redman backed away. “I’ll do whatever you want.” He steadied himself on a counter and then defiantly yelled, “But I won’t lose HANK! If whatever you need is going to hurt my man or our life… I don’t want it. TAKE IT ALL BACK. It’s not worth a damn thing without him.”

The mage’s stare was flat and unchanging. His eyes twinkled dangerously… then he beamed a huge grin. “You are very lucky Red…. to be so in love…”

Red relaxed, “I’m not lucky. I’m grateful… to you. Damien… I know you changed things… and I never had the chance to thank you. Thank you. I love my husband.”

The grin grew wider and there was a deep sigh of relief. “Oh Red… that was the one thing I truly needed to hear.”

The big laborer saw the opportunity and added slyly, “So we’re even?”

“Not quite.” Damien shot back sarcastically. “I need a favor: a small, very average favor.” The grin and the twinkle faded, “It’s more a favor for Gino. He’s been through a really rough time. He’s going to need a place to stay…”

“Shit!” Red Swore. “Done! This was his home once. It’ll be his home again.”

Damien winked, “Good… cause his cab is pulling up right now.”

Red barked a laugh, “Typical Damien.”

“Some things never change.” Damien smiled affectionately at the familiarity.

“You’re right D. some things never change. This used to be your home too… it can be again, if you need it.”

Damien’s whole face almost buckled into tears, but he quickly compassed himself. “No I can’t. That’s not an option any more…” His eyes gazed off into the distance again, “Red…I need you to do one more thing….”

Red could hear Footsteps on the porch. The doorbell rang. He heard Hank running down the stairs. “What…?”

Damien’s voice was urgent and pleading. “Help him forget me.”

Red’s head whipped around in shock to look at the young man, “What!?”

“Tell him I was evil. Tell him I was manipulative and deceitful. Make him forget me altogether and help him move on.”

“RED!!!” Hank screamed in panic.

The alarm in his lover’s voice sent Red running into the living room in an involuntary reaction. His reflexes were taunt and protective. Hank was standing in the doorway with Gino Salvatore’s heavy muscled body propped on his shoulder. Hanks’s beefy frame was completely supporting the sultry Italian bodybuilder. Gino looked like he had been through a war. His expensive clothes were ripped and his gorgeous face was fresh with purple bruises. There were trails of dried blood on his exposed hairy arms.

“JESUS!” Red swore then rushed to help.

Gino gave Red a relieved smile and a grateful look, “Thanks buddy. “

“Christ, Salvatore… did you piss off the 49ers?” Red yelled. He took Gino’s weight and moved it to the couch. He was about to call for Damien… but the Kitchen was empty. The poor guy must have run off.

Gino grabbed Red’s big hand firmly and said in a desperate voice. “Red… I was in some trouble… it’s all over now… but i… but I don’t have a place to live.” His swollen lip quivered in frustration… “I need a place to stay.”

Red shrugged and nodded, “Yeah you’re going to stay here. It’s already been decided, champ.”

“How did you know?” Gino asked groggily.

“Damien was here. He set it all up.”

Gino’s face contorted in outrage. “That’s impossible!” He fell limply onto the couch and then weakly collapsed in on himself. “Damien Vaughn is dead.”

Continued in Witch Hunt 2