There would have been nothing remarkable about that night if I hadn't noticed Seamus. The strobe lights flashing over sweat-slicked flesh, flashes of too-tight jeans and white smiles, the waterfall of mixed drinks: all of them would have blended together into the long procession of blurry Saturdays at Evo.

I'd moved to San Cristobal for work as a bright-eyed graduate in the wake of the real estate bubble's implosion. I'd snatched up a house worth four times what I paid for it. In addition to an office and several guest rooms, there was space enough for a gym and an expansive master bedroom, both of which were well-used.

I can't say for certain why every Saturday night ended back in my bedroom. It might have been my good looks, which had earned me modeling jobs throughout college. The money from those had gotten me my diploma, and I'd had plenty to spare for supplements and my gym membership. I'd turned a high school quarterback's body into a serious weightlifter's physique in four years, and in the half-decade since graduating, it had only gotten better. At 6'3, my body fat was in the low single digits and I was easily competition-ready, not that I'd ever wear posers. Maybe it was the looks, and maybe it was my body, but I like to think it was my winning personality.

I wasn't above turning on the charm when I needed it. The blue eyes and the smile supplemented a deep baritone that, I've been told, could make you feel like you were the most important person in my world whenever I needed something from you. Call me a user if you want. On that count, I have no regrets. We all use each other.

On that Saturday, I'd turned my attentions on the new bartender, Owen. I had been winking at the guy, throwing sly glances his way since he was a barback. He'd returned the favor by ogling my incredible physique and passing me the occasional vodka cranberry. He was definitely middling to low on the totem pole among the bar staff, with his blunt nose and soft physique. Not my type, but, I liked my drinks free.

I thanked Owen by letting my arm flex up big as I knocked my drink back. I didn't get to see his hungry stare. A face across the room caught my eye.

Normally, only exceptional creatures caught my eye. Tall, muscled men. Ones with striking blue eyes, or green. Perfect jawlines and cheekbones that could have been a sculptor's work. A build that was beyond merely ripped. There was nothing extraordinary about this fellow's features at all. His hair was coppery brown and lank despite its short cut, and he had large hazel eyes that put me in mind of a deer about to startle. They, along with a smooth face, made it hard to guess at his age. When his gaze met mine, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, and his face in profile betrayed a weak chin. He was slender and short. Like Owen, not my type.

A memory tugged at me. I found myself heading toward the slender fellow, barely noticing the crowd parting around me. I wasn't the tallest guy in the room, but may have been the best built. People rarely got in my way.

He was still eyeing me as I approached. His big hazel eyes twitched over my body as if taking an inventory of the vein-twined biceps, the solid, globe-like pectorals, the abs that pressed up visibly beneath the fabric of my tight grey v-neck. They widened a bit as they settled on the bulge at my crotch. I was used to that, ever since a last growth spurt in high school had sent my already-impressive cock over the ten-inch mark.

Nervous he might have been, but he didn't seem the least bit surprised that I had deigned to notice him. Most guys stammered, or put on miserable displays of rattled nonchalance.

He simply raised his voice to a level just audible over the pounding music and said, "It's been a while."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Rather than shout over the music, I hiked a thumb at one of the booths at the outer rim of the club. Without glancing to see if he followed, I walked through the crowd of sweating dancers, only halting once for a couple who was too busy locking lips to see me coming. When I reached the booth, I sat. A guy in a neighboring booth eyed me appreciatively. I deflected his attentions with a cold glance as the coppery-haired fellow sat across from me.

"We've met, haven't we," I began.

"Mhm," he said. He tugged at the collar of his dark button-down. A glint of gold caught my eye. He was wearing a pendant of some sort. A voluptuous woman's outline, or something similar.

"Look, if you don't give me something to go on, I'm out of here," I said, glancing back up at his face.

"You always did cut to the chase," he said, grinning. His eyes no longer seemed nervous. There was a bit of a sardonic twinkle in them.

I scanned his face. There was something familiar about his features, but I didn't recognize the whole. He could easily have been someone I'd studied at a gas station, or stood in line behind at the grocery store. I'd had both approach me in bars, hanging their bids for my attention from those tenuous threads. I shook my head.

"It's been a while since high school," he said.

High school. I fished through my memories for someone to match the fellow seated across from me. It didn't take long. His hair had been longer, in a constant state of disarray, and his skin had been even paler then. What now was a healthy ivory had been ghost-pale and splotched with blemishes. He'd been plumper, too, but his height was about right.

I laughed. "She-Mouse!"

His look of expectation darkened into a momentary frown. "I go by Seamus now," he said, crisply.

We'd given him the name in sophomore year, when his voice had finally started to change. While the other boys in my class were shooting up like weeds and putting on muscle, Seamus was squeaking along with a breaking voice and his blotchy skin. Our hormones had been raging, and those of us struggling for the position of alpha male in the class had found little Seamus an easy target.

"Sorry about that," I said, meaning it for more than the nickname. "So, you're..." I gestured around the club.

"Queer? I guess, but we always knew I was weird," he said. "But you, I mean, the Lions' star quarterback. I have to admit, I was shocked to see you here. In retrospect, the whole jock scene, with all the locker room horseplay... those should've been warning signs."

I shrugged. Seamus had always had a bit of a mouth, but without the body to back it up, it'd just gotten the crap kicked out of him. It wasn't like you could be nice to him, either. Jory Harker had stepped in when he thought we'd gone too far, once, and Seamus had followed him around for the whole junior year.

"I almost didn't recognize you," I said.

"I clean up well," he said. It was true. He wasn't bad looking, and some guys would have found him cute, if twinkish. His eyes were almost feminine, with their long lashes. He took me in unabashedly, and said, "You're way bigger than you were in high school. And you were big then."

"I grew in college, another three inches. 6'3, 265 now." I bent my arm, and 20 inches of ripped muscle exploded upward so fast that my t-shirt's arm almost split.

"That's more than twice what I weigh," he breathed.

The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. A blush suffused his cheeks. His mouth parted as he let out a soft breath. His gaze latched onto my arm like a lamprey's jaws. Seamus was in to muscle. I've had better-looking guys, but somehow I thought a time with a real muscle lover would be memorable. Besides, I'd gone to school with him. He was practically an old friend.

I put my hand on his knee underneath the table. To his credit, he didn't jump. I fixed him with my best gaze, and turned on the big white smile.

"It's getting kind of late. You feel like getting out of here?"

I could almost hear his heart start pounding. "Really?" he asked.

"I figure I owe you one, for all the trouble in high school," I said.

He smiled tentatively and fiddled with his pendant, all nerves and hesitation again. "Not to mention," he ventured, "that you promised."


"Don't you remember?" he asked. "Algebra?"

I did. It had been an especially difficult semester for me, and I'd needed help on the Algebra final. If I'd failed the class, my GPA would have suffered, and I'd likely have been suspended from football the year after. That would've shattered my collegiate dreams. Seamus had seemed like the right guy to turn to, with his slavish desire to please any of the jocks.

I'd gone over to his house. His room was dark and held a faint scent of beeswax, as if he burned candles often. That wouldn't have surprised me. His walls were plastered with pictures of wizards and princesses, which he later confided were illustrations from Dungeons and Dragons. Apparently, he and the other misfits of the school got together like real people to roll their dice and decide the fates of fantasy worlds.

He had agreed to tutor me with just days to spare until the exam. Agreed, but not before proposing an exchange.

"If I help you pass, will you help me get a body like yours?"

I'd been taken aback by the earnestness of his question. He'd sat there, staring at me, and I'd taken pity on him. Not pity enough to befriend him, mind you. I'd seen him trailing after Jory Harker.

"Totally," I'd said, muttering a quiet "some day" to myself after he'd rushed downstairs to get his books.

I hadn't just passed the class. I'd aced the test, and it had been enough to push my low C into the mid-80th percentile. Somewhere in the excitement of passing, I'd forgotten my pledge. I know Seamus had tried to bring it up to me a few times, but flat-out ignoring him at school had gotten the point across.

Nodding, I said, "I didn't quite mean it this way, but call it reparations if you want."

"Fair enough," he said, and a smile played over his lips.

We stood and ceded the booth to another couple. Both of the guys looked me over, barely noticing Seamus. I'd fucked one of them, and didn't really want to stay to talk, now that I'd found something better to do with my night, so I led my little conquest to the door.

Outside, the night was bleary with the promise of rain. The full moon's silver face peeked through the cloud, blanketing the world in unsteady light. It was the sort of night I liked to spend indoors.

"We can go to my place," I offered as we came to my Beamer. "It's off the 74 a few exits down."

He practically had to crane his neck to respond. The booth had evened our heights, but now that we were standing, I was reminded of how much smaller than me he was. It wasn't just his height, which I guessed to be around 5'7 or 5'8. He looked fragile in the darkness, a little porcelain statue of a man. I remembered his comment about me being double his weight. It had not been hyperbole.

"Let's go to mine instead? Got an apartment just down the street."

"My place is bigger. So's my bed. I wouldn't want to break yours." I stretched to my full height, and my t-shirt rode up to reveal my cobblestone abs.

He did not give way. "I've got a California King at the apartment. Besides, you've been drinking, too."

I smirked. "Oh, please. It takes more than a few drinks to knock me out."

"Look, the cops are really cracking down on drunk driving on the 74. I saw it on the news the other day. Do you really want to chance it?"

I could only snort with annoyance. "Fine. Your place," I muttered. I hoped he was more submissive in the sack.

We got into his little red Ford. I had to put the seat all the way back, and even then my legs were cramping by the time we pulled in to the apartment building's lot.

The place wasn't especially ritzy, but he could have done worse. There are some real dives to rent in the outskirts of San Cristobal, especially on the border with Cerritos. These apartments had a big banner that announced "Month-to-month Rent," which I'm sure appealed to the local college students.

It was pleasantly quiet, which was a surprise for a Saturday night at housing this close to San Cristobal College. Only a few lights were on, scattered across the building. I mentioned as much, and Seamus reminded me that it was Spring Break.

Seamus led the way to an apartment on third floor of the building. A lot of the units around his had vacancy signs. I guessed that he had chosen the place for its silence.

He let me in, and flipped on a light. If I'd been expecting his nerdy posters to be cluttering the walls, I was mistaken. He'd barely decorated. A few candles were scattered here and there, but other than a couch and a small television, the room was bare. The kitchen bar was stocked with alcohol which looked mostly untouched. Of course, Seamus probably didn't throw many parties.

The apartment had two bedrooms. The smaller one had been converted into an anemic excuse for a home gym. He led me into the larger. Here, at least, I caught the familiar whiff of beeswax. He didn't turn on the lights, but lit a few candles placed haphazardly around the room. Perhaps he thought it was romantic, but maybe it was just a habit ingrained over years of repetition.

Here, too, he'd kept to a spartan minimum of decor: just a bedstand, dresser, and bed. The bed was, as promised, a California King. Beneath it was a big throw rug that covered the hardwood floor. It looked like the previous occupant had drawn on the floor with chalk. The point of a drawn triangle peeked out from under the throw. The previous occupant must have had kids.

Seamus left me in the bedroom to go and make us some drinks. I stepped into the bedroom's attached bathroom. I'd barely been sweating in the club, but I splashed some water on my face. I decided to leave my shirt on. It wouldn't do to have the little guy pass out from just looking at me.

He returned with a fruity mixed drink that was pretty tasty. I drained mine quickly while he got rid of his jeans and dress shirt and sat on the bed.

"So what do we do?" he asked, looking even younger now that there was no cloth to hide his upper body. Damn, but he was skinny. "I've never done this before."

"You've got some catching up to do," I answered, closing the distance between us in two short strides so I could tower over him. "It's going to be tough to make out if we don't both lie down, though." I indicated the difference in our heights.

He settled himself in bed and I joined him after pulling off my jeans. Lying on the bed, I could feel his heart pounding. It sent little tremors through the mattress. He'd been at turns surprisingly confident and shy since we'd reunited, but now I felt like I was back in my comfort zone. Say what you would about me attitude, but sex was my specialty.

I reached out an arm and pulled him toward me. He was light as a bird. At first, his movements were uncertain and clumsy as he straddled me, settling his legs to either side of my body. He was wearing boxers, like I was, and I could see that he was already painfully hard beneath the plaid cloth.

He moved forward to press his lips against mine. They were sweet with the residue of his drink. His kissing was too gentle for my liking, so I put a hand on the back of his head and forced him closer, until our tongues were fighting each other in earnest.

As if that had given him courage, his slender hands helped me remove my shirt, savoring the feel of the hard pectorals beneath. He found one of my nipples and gently brushed it, but then his hands were on their way up to my mountainous shoulders. They lingered there only briefly before moving on to knead the mass of my arms. I clenched my fist and caused my biceps to leap, and felt his cock surge harder against me.

He broke our kiss to gasp, "You're so huge."

That, more than any appreciation of him, started to get me hard.

I pulled him back down for another kiss and let out a gasp of my own as something hot landed on my chest. It was Seamus's pendant, the golden woman. It was too dark to see more than her outline. After the initial shock, the pendant settled against my skin, a pleasurable warmth between us as Seamus began, hesitantly, to thrust his body against mine.

He pushed himself backward so that our cocks pressed through the fabric. Mine made a huge mound in my boxers although it was only in the earliest stages of erection. He did not have the patience to just grind for long. One of his small hands snaked out and slipped into the front of my undershorts. A finger ran down the side of my cock. Pleasure rippled through me, and my dick pulsed larger.

"Let's get these off," I said, tugging at the hem of his boxers. I took his off, and he returned the favor with mine. My dick flopped down against the taut musculature of my abdomen, thick and heavy. Seamus's cock was a nice seven inches, but looked bigger on his small form. Even half-hard, mine was a little longer and much thicker. It looked like an adult's arm next to a child's.

He pushed himself further down the bed, spreading his legs so he could straddle my prone body. He leaned forward with sudden confidence, and ran his tongue up the underside of my dick. I may not have been terribly attracted to him, but my cock had a simple rule: shoot first and ask questions later. It throbbed past eight inches and nine in a matter of seconds before reaching its mammoth ten-inch length.

Seamus was undeterred by its immensity. He bent forward again and engulfed the head with his mouth, pushing himself down on it like a seasoned cocksucker. He worked himself into a rhythym, devouring my dick like it was manna and he a starving man. His tongue teased my flared cockhead. Every once in a while, the hot metal of his pendant banged against my flesh.

It felt like seconds before I was ready. I felt the flush of hot pleasure building in the base of my dick, in my balls, along my veins. Almost without thinking, I reached out and shoved Seamus's head down further on my pole in preparation for what was to come.

Of course he gagged. They all gagged the first time. Knowing that no one could take all of me threw my orgasm into overdrive. Cum exploded up my shaft and rocketed down Seamus's throat. I'd always been an exceptionally heavy cummer. He must have swallowed a quart, but he took it like a champ. Spurts of warmth against my leg told me Seamus had finished, too. Momentary annoyance dimmed my pleasure.

When he finally let my dick slip out of his mouth, Seamus leaned against me.

"That was amazing," he said.

I let out a noncommittal grunt, wearied from my exertion. I'd been preparing to tell him that I needed to go, but suddenly, I was very tired. Instead, I asked, "Mind turning out the lights?"

He did, and within moments I was asleep.

I woke up not long later to the feel of a hand stroking the skin of my dick, which was already hard and leaking. Seamus lay next to me in the darkness, his dick poking my muscled leg. I reached down to return the favor. To my surprise, my fingers closed around a big, thick cock. In the light, Seamus's tool had been a little bigger than I expected, but the shaft in my grip was definitely longer than seven inches and just on the verge of impressive thickness. I shrugged it off as early morning wood, as I'd certainly had some epic boners in the past.

"Feels so good," Seamus groaned. His cock jerked in my hand.

We lay there, playing with each other's dicks in the darkness, grunting out encouragements to each other. I'd just started to build toward another orgasm when my smaller partner stopped, leaving me hanging at the brink.

His smile gleamed in the darkness. "Not just yet."

He rolled off the bed and opened up his nightstand. In the darkness, he looked more toned than I recalled, but I passed it off as the shadows favoring him. Skinny or not, he was definitely a decent looking guy, and I wondered why I had been quite so down on him earlier. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and spun them around his finger once, looking at me.

"You game?"

"Need to hold me down, little man?" I asked, smirking.

"Something like that."


He guided my arms up behind me, and with two clicks, secured my wrists to head of the bed. My cock had begun to wilt during the exchange, but it reawakened as his naked flesh rasped against mine on his way down my body. His lips felt like they were everywhere, caressing the hard planes of my chest one moment, and suddenly down by the bricks of my eight-pack. As soon as he reached my crotch, my dick leapt to attention, hitting him hard in the chin. Its size didn't unman him; if anything, it inflamed his lust. He took my cockhead in his mouth.

The heat and warmth of his mouth instantly sent me into bliss. I expected a quick release, but it was anything but. Seamus used every trick I'd ever experienced to bring me to the edge of eruption, then pulled back. He tickled my balls, he tongued the rim of my dick, he even let his fingers play around the edges of my asshole. I grunted each time he denied my orgasm. The little bastard just winked up at me, mischief in his eyes. My urge to cum kept growing stronger and stronger, until I was roaring for release and bucking my hips against his face. My dick was a massive obelisk of flesh between my legs, so swollen it felt like it might burst if touched.

At last, that satisfied Seamus. He plunged down on me, his tongue working my shaft. The sensation of suction pushed me over the edge. My balls churned, by dick swelled, and the excruciatingly wonderful burn of release traveled up my shaft. Even Seamus wasn't prepared for this one.

His eyes widened in surprise as the first volley of cum spurted from my tool. He desperately tried to swallow in time for the next explosion. So intense was the rapturous pleasure I felt that blackness crowded in around my field of vision. I struggled to keep conscious as wave after wave of pleasure crested over me. The huge pulses of my dick slowed, then stopped, and Seamus pulled off of me. He tried to straighten, but tumbled back off the bed with a dazed look on his face.

"You all right?" I asked, my voice a dry croak. The world spun around me. It felt as if the covers were moving beneath my back of their own volition.

Seamus groaned in response. He was getting up when the first spasm hit him, a wave of invisible energy that rippled from his head down to his toes as if he had been struck by lightning. His cock, already hard, leapt to attention and thwacked against his abs. I did a double-take. Seamus didn't have abs.

He did now. The faintest outlines of definition pressed up under the skin of his smooth stomach. With every breath he took, they seemed to grow more pronounced, forming into four little bumps, then the ridges of a genuine six-pack. Above them, his flat pecs pushed outward, taking on little striations as they pulsed larger and thicker, until his pendant hung between a shallow but noticeable valley that deepened with each second.

His trembling hands rose to cup his growing chest, and I marveled at the defined biceps that bunched up on his arms. They started out looking like little goose eggs of muscle, but as he caressed himself, they flexed and throbbed larger. Veins pushed up under the surface of his skin. He hadn't had much body fat before, so the new-grown muscle looked granite-hard and defined, tangled in pulsing blue veins.

Another spasm shot through Seamus. This time, his arms and legs and spine visibly lengthened. He let out a groan of pain that quickly devolved into grunts of pleasure as growing muscle rushed in to enhance his longer limbs. That wasn't the only sign of pleasure. Throughout the process, his dick had remained hard, and like a water balloon it had slowly strained longer and thicker until it hung an amazingly thick nine inches, pointing directly toward me.

The growth slowed and stopped. It had transformed short, slim Seamus's body into that of a respectable worked out jock. Totally engrossed, he caressed his newly-grown muscles, his big cock drooling precum. He stood a couple of inches taller than before, and his shoulders had broadened with rounded muscles, giving his body a dramatic taper from shoulders to waist. His neck, framed by mounding traps, had thickened as well, and above it his features seemed more confident and attractive than before, masculine and gorgeous where before he had just been cute.

His pecs protruded several inches, casting dark shadows over a perfect six-pack. Below that, a defined V pointed down toward his dick, which throbbed, untouched. I knew what was coming before he did. His eyes widened, his hips bucked, and his dick throbbed, spraying hot white seed that spattered like rain across the distance between us.



"How," I asked, my pulse a bass drum in my ears, "How did you do that?"

I'd just seen Seamus, the scrawny nerd I barely remembered from high school, transform from a slight-bodied nerd into a well-muscled athlete. He wasn't in my league, of course--my build was a bodybuilder's, and I towered above a lot of guys--but he'd completely bypassed a runner's build and was well into the 'jock' category by the time the growth ebbed away.

Seamus, ignoring my question, stood at the foot of the bed. In the half-light of his bedchamber, his body was a study of light and shadow. Light glowed off of the smooth curves of his shoulders, highlighted how his chest looked like it had turned into a work of ivory marble. Shadow pooled in the hollow made by his clavicles, and in the newborn striations of his hard, dense muscle.

His dick, still damp from the exultant orgasm that had been an epilogue to his growth, bounced once. Even when he'd been small, he'd had a man's solid dick, and his cock had grown to match his new physique. How long was it now, eight and a half inches? Nine? It looked big and thick. He gripped it tightly with one of his hands, followed by the other, and there was still some vein-covered shaft to spare.

He looked up. His hazel caught the light, and for a moment glowed a feral gold. "So I've finally managed to impress you, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, out of breath as if I'd run a marathon. "But how?"

"Magic, I guess," came the flippant response.

Seamus sauntered over to his nightstand and fished around in the drawer. Metal and wood thumped dully against one another. I turned to look at him, which only reminded me of my dizzy weakness. It took my vision a second or two to stop spinning so I could see him clearly again.

He shut the drawer and straightened, spinning a pair of handcuffs around on one finger. I could not help but notice the solid bump of muscle that bounced on his right arm with every revolution.

"Magic doesn't exist," I said. My voice sounded hollow in my ears. All of my blood rushed down to the giant between my thighs, which had never fully softened after its last exertions.

Seamus climbed back into bed with me. His body was a furnace, almost as hot as the golden woman hanging from around his neck. As he clambered up on top of me, I reveled in the new weight of his muscles. He was heavier than I expected, and there was not a bit of him that wasn't hard as rock.

"Isn't this magical?" Seamus's voice held a hint of wry amusement. He guided one of my hands up to the headboard of his bed, comprised of spirals of wood beneath a flourishing arch. I allowed him, returning the white grin that spread across his face.

"Seriously, Seamus, how? Some new steroid? A supplement? Just think of how big I could get if I had some of this stuff."

He laughed. As he pulled my other hand up to the headboard, he said, "It's a long story."

The handcuffs snicked into place. Seamus's free hands immediately traveled down to my cock and balls, and the resulting wash of pleasure almost made me lose my train of thought. He pressed his hard, hot pole against mine and rubbed the two slick, pulsing members together.

I fought through my desire. "But how?" I gasped as one of his fingers graced the skin behind my balls.

"There's this shop," he said, jerking my cock in earnest. "Here in town. Place run by a little old man."

"Yeah?" I grunted, starting to thrust my cock against his in earnest.

The urge to cum again was swiftly displacing my curiosity. Just looking at his broad, flaring lats as he hunched over my dick would've been enough to send me over the edge if I hadn't been so spent. I wanted to look down, to see the hugeness of my dick eclipsing his new, bigger cock, but his head and freshly-muscled physique were in the way.

"People said he sells things. Not what you want, but what you need."

"Hold off," I said. "I'm almost about to blow."

To my surprise, he stopped.

"Can't have that," he chuckled.

Seamus he leaned forward, sandwiching our hard dicks between us as he bent to kiss my pecs. I gazed at the ceiling, trying to think of anything but cumming. I did't want to let loose just yet, but Seamus knew how to hit every one of my buttons.

His warm, wet kisses traveled up my breastbone, and then he teased my neck with his mouth. One of his hands ran down my sweat-slicked side to stroke my ass. The hand felt surprisingly large and firm.

"Anyway, what do you mean, not what you want--" I gasped as his finger wedged itself under my butt and a finger grazed my hole.

"--but what you need. Like a blind man may want a million dollars, but what he really needs is just to see one sunrise."

"I don't get--" The rest of my sentence dissolved as the finger starting playing with my hole, sending new sensations racing to my cock.

"What I needed was to be big," he said. There was a hunger to his voice that chilled me despite his ministrations.

"How? You can't just spontaneously get big," I managed between grunts and gasps. "It has to come from somewhere."

Seamus laughed. "Oh, Ethan," he said. "Just like Algebra studies. You won't get it, even when you're led right to the point." His fervent grinding against me only intensified in speed.

"I don't--"

"Look down," he said, straightening just enough to reveal his glistening six-pack and the dick beneath it. His cock was pressed up against mine. They were almost the same size.

That didn't make sense. Sure, his dick had grown, but my dick was an eleven-inch monster. Had been. It was still big, sure, well toward the top-end of male endowments, but it was no longer enormous.

And neither was I. I was still easily bigger than Seamus. My muscles had a volume to them that his could not hope to approach, but no one would call me huge any more. My mind reeled.

"You're my supplement," he whispered.

His finger, now deep in my asshole, brushed up against something inside of me, something I'd never felt before. My body went wild. I tried to fight, but I'd already been on the edge before Seamus's revelation. I felt the orgasm building into a violent explosion at the base of my shaft, sending my limbs flailing with wild spasms of pleasure.

It was the patient agony of tortured hours, distilled into mere moments, as what felt like a sea of burning spunk forced itself up the length of my rod. Although I tried to hold back, that just prolonged the reaction, intensified it. Seamus put his mouth over my pulsing, angry cock just as I bucked my hips and came. The first shot knocked me back with the force of a shotgun recoil. By the second I was blind with the potency of the orgasm, and I could see sunbursts behind my eyes with every thunderous beat of my heart. I must have still been cumming when exhaustion claimed me, yanking me down into a black spiral of unconsciousness.


A weight pressed down on me. Something tugged at my right wrist, dragging me back to consciousness with the sound of clinking metal. I stirred and raised my head. The effort sent a wave of dizzy weakness through me.

Through half-lidded eyes, I saw what--no, who--was atop me. Seamus. My addled mind had a difficult time associating the chiseled gymnast's build that glowed in the dawn's rosy light with my memories of him, but even though his face had changed, his eyes hadn't. They were intense and hazel, and they never left my face as he fiddled with something behind me.

Something fell away from my right wrist, and Seamus smiled with satisfaction. He leaned back, and his eyes caught the light, shining as gold as the pendant he wore. The muscles of his body pressing against mine already had me half-hard. He rose from the bed, the motion sinuous and strong, and I gave a yearning grunt as cool air rushed in to fill the spaces where his flesh had been pressed against me.

"Good," he said. "You're awake."

His voice resonated in my ears, rich and deep, possessed of a bass edge that it had lacked before. With a rich laugh, he stretched in the cool air. He was all that I could see, an idol of masculinity blushed by the light. Goosebumps rose up his arms and his nipples hardened to match the throbbing of his huge member. My eyes widened at the play of his muscles as they tensed against one another. He was not just athletic any more. He was big. Not as big as me, though. Surely not. Could he be?

"I'd ask what you think, but I can tell," he said, glancing down at my cock. There was no 'half' to its hardness any more. It bobbed before me, hard and thick. But it felt wrong. Smaller than before.

It wasn't just my dick.

Everything had been diminished. My chest lacked its thick, squared-off overhang, and because of it, I could see my abs. They were less chiseled than before, not quite an eight-pack, though they were still hard. The most disconcerting part about my transformation was my legs. They no longer stretched toward the end of the bed as they had before. I couldn't be shorter. I couldn't.

"What are you going to do with me?" I asked.

"Do with you? You're free to go."

"I'm your prisoner, aren't I?" I growled.

Seamus smirked. He indicated the dresser next to me. I glanced to the side. The handcuffs sat there, glittering in the night.

"You're free to go," he said.

I held my hands up before my face. They were free. There were only red marks to show that he'd cuffed me to the bed. "You're playing with me," I said.

"Not at all. I've gotten what I want," he said. "With a body like this, people will finally take me seriously. You can go."

Slowly, I rose from the bed. I watched him as if he were a snake that might bite as I moved toward him. He made no attempt to get out of my way.

"I can't leave like this," I said. "You have to give it back."

"I don't think I do."

I straightened my spine and tried to loom over him, to intimidate him with my greater size. That was when I noticed that we were the same height. My eyes went wide. I might have still had a few pounds of muscle on him, but he looked like he might be an even match for me now. To my chagrin, the one place where we weren't equal was down below. His dick was still rock hard, and it was clearly bigger than mine.

Rage bubbled up inside of me, and before I knew it, I'd thrown a punch at him. To my surprise, he caught the blow with a practiced hand and turned my momentum against me, throwing me to the ground.

"That was pretty stupid," he said. "But expected. You should know, I started doing martial arts because I never thought I'd be big enough to defend myself. They say you don't need a lot of strength to be good at them, but I'll be honest: it helps."

With a roar, I got to my feet and launched myself at him. This time, I managed to take him down to the ground. Our hard cocks pressed together, mingling pleasure with the pain as we rolled around on the floor, vying for supremacy. I tried to overpower him only to find that he was almost my equal in strength. I wasn't used to fighting guys anywhere near as strong as I was.

We flipped over again, and somehow Seamus got the upper hand. He drew back, freeing my cock to slap against my abs. He stared down at me as we struggled. Suddenly, I felt something huge and thick pressing against my ass cheeks.

"No," I whispered. I tried to struggle, but the feeling of him entering me drove the fight out of my arms. He pinned them behind my head.

If the feeling of his fingers inside of me had been exquisite, this experience was beyond words. Pleasure so great it became pain--or perhaps pain so great that my body could only feel it as pleasure--flooded through me as he thrust into me. The entire universe compressed around us. The sun, the sounds of traffic from outside, even the feel of the floor pressing into my back, they all vanished to be replaced by simpler, primal sensations. The throbbing music of blood singing in my veins. The hungry sheen to Seamus's half-closed eyes. The feel of every ridge, every vein of his dick.

I roared as I came. Hot liquid flooded the space between us, torrents unlike I'd ever produced before. Amidst my ebbing orgasm, I felt a moment of bittersweet relief as Seamus's cock expanded precipitously within me. He had to be finished, I thought. But then it expanded again, and I realized he was growing. His arms expanded to fill my field of vision, their muscled hardness refining itself, becoming punctuated with coiled blue veins just beneath the skin. My voice cracked and shot higher as Seamus continued thrusting in to me, nowhere near finished.

As he grew, I felt myself shrinking. The floor dug into my back as my lats dwindled away. His strong hand grew to encompass more of my shrinking wrists, until he could easily hold me down without trying. His thrusts kept pushing my cock up against my softening abs. It once would have stretched almost up to the bottom of my pectorals, but now it was smaller, barely touching my navel. Somehow, knowing that Seamus had all the control, that I couldn't get free even if I wanted to now, started me thrusting against him with answering need.

He growled. The sound of it rattled my bones. It was a primal, pleasure-filled sound, and as it exploded out of him, his hand clenched painfully around my wrists. His seed boiled up into my guts in a series of angry spurts, and I came again, unable to control myself despite the consequences. We shuddered together in time, my higher-pitched groans matching his deeper ones, until the orgasms subsided, leaving us sweating and hot despite the chill of the room. All the while, he grew, and I diminished.

We lay there for what seemed like an eternity, Seamus's unbearable weight pressing me into the floor. I felt as if I were wrapped in a warm blanket of muscle. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't. The experience of being the smaller man, of being held by someone so superior, of surrendering, was raw and new. And God, it felt good.

Eternity ended. Seamus untangled his limbs from mine. He stood up. And up. He towered over me, impossibly large, muscled like a bodybuilder and glowing like a Greek god in the light of the newborn day. Coiled blond hairs like down dusted his chest, looking like threads woven from gold. He stretched, boulder-like shoulders bulging as he strained skyward with two thick arms. His fingertips brushed the ceiling.

When I stood, the difference between us was shocking. My head only came up to the bottom of his chest, at most. I still had a mildly athletic build, but I looked like a twig next to the giant I had helped to create. He looked down at me, and a shadow passed over his face.

"You're smaller than I was," he said. He did not sound pleased.

He was probably right. I hadn't been this short since before high school. He was only about an inch taller than I had been before last night, but he overshadowed me by almost a foot. Huge, barrel-like pecs heaved as he took a deep breath.

I took a step back, feeling afraid of another man for the first time in my life.

"Are you all right?"

The question took me by surprise. "What do you care?" I asked. "You've taken everything from me."

"That's right, I have," he said. "And I'm not going to give it back."


"Because this is what I needed," said Seamus as he walked around the room, putting on the clothes I'd worn over on the previous night. "I would've been okay with less, but... well, there's nothing that can be done about it now. I promise you, I'll try to take care of these muscles. I know how hard you worked for them."

"But what about me?" I stammered out as he made his way to the door.

"You'll figure something out, I'm sure," he said with a sad smirk. "I know this isn't what you wanted, either. But I think it's what you needed."

Then he was gone.

I'll be honest. I sat and cried for a while. I'd never felt this vulnerable. What was I supposed to do? Go to the gym? I'd never be able to build myself back up to my old size, especially since I was now at most five and a half feet tall. Go to bars? I'd be laughed at by guys who'd previously been my inferiors. I wanted more than anything to turn back time, to go back to the night when I'd met Seamus and make a different set of choices. No, I decided. I wished I could go back to high school. That's when I'd started this, by wronging him in the first place. The insight shook me. How long had I used him while taking his emotions for granted? Maybe this was a punishment that I'd earned.

It was only when I got up to go that something caught my eye. Glistening in the sunlight, as bright as the memory of Seamus's eyes, lay a pendant on a golden chain. I reached out for it. It was hot to the touch. When I drew it back into the shadows with me, I noticed that the pendant had changed. The woman on it was smiling slightly, as if sharing a secret just with me.

Things were bad now, she seemed to say. But they didn't have to stay that way. With a renewed spring in my step, I put on Seamus's old clothes and left for San Cristobal.