...Comes Around

Continued from What Goes Around

One of my few remaining clients bought me a pre-paid gym membership for my 24th birthday. He was a rarity, in to truly huge muscle and desperate to prove himself worthy of my freakish physique. The gift was worthless, of course, because who needs to lift weights when you can just feed on those who do? At the time, I'd scoffed and thrown the pass into the drawer of my nightstand.

But Las Vegas is a lonely town. The same factors that made it a perfect playground for my hunger also made the city inhospitable to an outsider. There were only so many times I could step out and see a show, or be fondled and relentlessly groped by lesser beings at some dimly-lit club that smelled fo sweat and lust. In short, I was growing bored. Desperate for something--a challenge, a mission, attention that did not make me feel unclean--I retrieved the pass from where it had lain for four mind-numbing months, and I went to the gym for the first time since I'd become truly big.

I made the mistake of going the first time in the middle of the day. The teen at the front desk was a pumped specimen, not too large but solid despite his middling height. He babbled a bit while redeeming my pass, and the solid lump of hose in his shorts told me everything I needed to know about him. I almost let him go.

My workout did not go well. Lifting the weights was effortless, but I knew nothing of form. I caught glimpses in the mirrors of smaller but seasoned weightlifters shaking their heads in disgust. They thought I'd done nothing to earn my body, that it was all genetic. They had no idea, but it shamed me.

I started going later and later at night, when no one was around. Still, I caught my fawning worshipper from the desk laughing when I dropped a weight on my foot. My face flushed with rage, and he shut his mouth when he saw me glaring back at him. It was not enough to soothe my humiliation.

I waited around until closing. He was the last staff member there, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as he mustered the courage to tell me to leave. Eventually, he squared his shoulders and sucked in a breath before tiptoeing toward me. I continued to sit on my bench, doing biceps curls with weights that would have crushed him.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. His voice quavered. "I need to close up."

Without looking at him, I finished my set and dropped the weights. The floor shook as each one impacted the ground. I stood up. And up. I towered over him by a good seven inches, and was twice as wide when I let my lats flare out.

"What do you want?" I asked, the basso sound of my voice rumbling in my chest. A warning growl.

"F-f-fuck me," he swore.

With a smirk, I said, "Sure. Not here, though. You have a car?" I glanced at his name tag and added a belated, "Mike."

"Tr-tr-truck. I have a truck," he said.

"Even better, Mike," I said, savoring his name. "Go close up, I'll wait for you outside."

Without waiting to see if he followed my orders, I strode to the doors, leaving the weights where I had dropped them. Let him pick them up and see how heavy they were, if he could even budge them. I knew his type; despite his height, everything had come easy to him. He would see.

He did not make me wait long. There was an alley by the side of the gym. I waited by the side of the building, painfully hard in my too-tight gym shorts as my body anticipated what was to come. When I heard the doors of the gym shut and lock, I stepped around and beckoned him over. He nearly ran.

"I thought you said you wanted to do it in the--" In mid-sentence, his eyes dropped down to my bulge. The shorts did nothing to hide the fact that was almost as long as his arm and nearly as thick as his wrist. I flexed my cock, and it jumped obscenely beneath the fabric. "Holy shit, that can't be real," he finished.

"It's real," I said, and then I was on him, shoving him against the wall of the building so hard that I half-expected to knock the wind out of him.

He let out a grunt of pain, but it dissolved into a groan of pleasure as I gripped his considerable cock through his own shorts. He may not have been tall, but he had a hard, tight body. I felt well-developed pectorals press against my upper abs as I ground myself against him.

I spun him around and shoved him back up against the wall, tearing his shorts and boxer briefs down with a single vicious motion, then hurriedly pulling my own shorts over my immense quads and mammoth cock. With little concern for his comfort, I thrust into him.

Mike sobbed at first, but it was not entirely a sound of agony at being split open by such a huge dick. He wanted the pleasure to continue as badly as he wanted the pain to stop. Slowly, we worked into a rhythm, and he began to moan.

"Yes, yes," he cried, mindless with pleasure, over and over until his voice was hoarse.

As I fucked him, he shrank. I tore into his muscles greedily, barely noticing how my concrete pecs turned to steel and the valleys between my cobbled abdominals deepened. No, his muscles were barely enough to show on me as I devoured them, although I coaxed perhaps another inch of height out of his dwindling body. I was too consumed by the feeling of his ass tightening around my dick as he shrank and I grew.

All at once, I was ready to cum. Hot pleasure built up in my balls, as if my cock was an awakening volcano. Sparks of pleasure shot down my spine as the white-hot liquid traveled up the enlarged shaft inch by agonizingly slow inch. I looked down, and through the blurring haze of pleasure, I could see that my dick had grown beyond huge, even if half was still inside of Mike.

I continued pumping as I shot the first load. Hot seed spurted out around my dick, and Mike let out a sound like he had been scalded by my seed. I pulled out of him with an audible pop. As if my dick had been the only thing holding him standing straight, Mike fell to the ground, his tiny dick shooting little jets of jism. I shot all over him, drowning out his lesser load with a torrent of jism.

When I finsihed, I left him there, as small as I had been before Travis. Perhaps smaller.

"Let's see him laugh at his superiors now," I muttered to myself as I walked away.

For a time, things were good again. I continued going to the gym. Mike did not. He vanished like a half-forgotten dream, although I did hear the manager talking to one of his friends about a "wasting sickness."

Months passed, and as my 25th birthday neared, my ennui returned. I worked out the gym almost every night now, pushing myself toward some nameless, unfathomable goal. After Mike, I was a towering 6'5 and weighed over 280. My biceps strained the sleeves of even the largest shirts I could find. I thought often about reaching 6'6, but something about the experience with Mike had left a bitter taste in my mouth. Reluctance kept me from draining someone smaller than I was, but there was no one bigger outside of bodybuilding competitions and my fantasies.

It was late one night in the gym when someone caught my eye. He was not bigger than I was, not even large. Perhaps 5'9, but with arms that, while corded with muscle, were lithe like a dancer's rather than bulky. His hair was soft, lank, and blond, but his eyes were sparkling and hard, blue as sapphires. As Travis's eyes had been.

There was nonetheless something that drew my gaze to him whenever he was around. He looked familiar, somehow, but not familiar enough that I could put a finger on it. Like a splinter stuck in my skin, I worried at the thought of him day in and day out to no avail.

Worried, and watched. I let nothing keep me from being at the gym when he was there. I watched him as he pumped his lithe little biceps on the preacher curl bench. I watched the sheen of sweat develop on his pale skin, which was made the color of wax by the fluorescent lights above. I watched him strive and struggle and gain, however slowly.

It was easy to figure out his schedule. He would come in two hours before the gym was to close and do half an hour of running on the treadmill. Then he would proceed to the weights. Mondays were biceps and chest. Tuesdays he did not come to the gym. Wednesays, he worked his back and shoulders. Thursdays, he did core. Fridays were for legs, and then he was gone until Monday came. After every workout, he showered, but not until waiting for the showers to be empty.

Four days a week were bright and colorful and full of life for me as I counted down the hours until I might see him again. I did not exist for the other three.

My fascination turned to irritation, then rage. For him to have such power over me was unspeakable. He was so far below me that I should not even have noticed him. But I did, and it consumed me.

It needed to end. I decided that I would put an end to him in the only way I knew how, by ensuring that he could never be of interest to me again. Besides, I'd longed for 6'6 for so long. He could easily get me there.

I made my move on a late night, when all but one staff member had gone home. The gym was open late, not by any virtue of policy, but because she had fallen asleep at the desk. I had no plans to wake her.

My target had already gone into the bathroom. I stood by the entrance and waited until the shower turned on before lumbering in and removing my clothes by my locker. My dick hung heavy and flaccid between my legs. A full eight inches, impossible not to notice, it smacked fleshily against the walls of muscle to either side of it as I stalked toward the showers.

He was there. His skin was ruddy from the heat of the water that steamed off of his toned physique. I followed the currents of water as they cascaded over slim shoulders and cut in the hollows behind his collarbone. Droplets sheened each flat pectoral before channeling down between the lumps of a surprisingly well-formed six-pack. His soft cock waited below, framed in golden down. It was slightly bigger than average, but perfectly formed.

As I watched, it began to lengthen and thicken, the veins running down either side plumping as they carried blood down to the hardening organ. His bright blue eyes were on me from the moment I stepped through the door. He was braver than any inferior I'd seen in so long. There was nothing deferent about the gaze he leveled at me.

"I wondered if you'd come," he said.

I was hard in a second. My cock smacked against my abs, huge and heavy. Not knowing why, I stepped toward him, step by uncertain step, and stopped within arm's reach.

"I know you," I said.

He nodded. "John Smith. We went to high school together. Do you remember?"

I shook my head. It was hard to think, I was so painfully hard. I wanted him so bad, wanted even the meager reservoir of power he represented. If he had told me he was George Washington, I would have believed him and asked how Martha was doing.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "You've changed a lot since then, haven't you." It was not a question.

"I want you," I said.

A primal growl roared out of my chest as I seized him by the shoulders and brought his body crashing into mine. Our lips pressed together, although I had to hunch over to reach his. I felt his hard cock poking into my leg, and the steel bar of mine wedged between us.

My power swirled up beneath my skin, an inferno of fury and hunger that longed to consume everything he was. I let just a burning trickle of it free, and felt the muscles of his shoulders dwindle slightly, his cock retreat and mine expand. The sensation renewed my confidence. I had him where I wanted him. Why had I waited so long to take him and be done with this?

He thrust against me. His hands were everywhere, on my cannonball-sized deltoids, running down the leaping mass of my triceps, desperately trying to grasp the adamantine mass of my cock between us. His moans echoed off of the tiles, as constant as the patter of droplets falling about us.

Unable to take it any longer, I released my power. The process was quicker, more intense, than it ever had been before. Muscle melted away from his long bones, and those bones shortened and thinned. Masculinity fled his face as his features softened and the gilded stubble on his cheeks vanished. I roared with triumph, thrust him against the wall, and laughed as I grew outward and upward, shooting past 6'6 and streaking toward sizes of which I'd never dreamed.

And then I heard him laughing, too. I pulled away from him, my cock between us dripping with precum, my chest heaving from exhilaration, and I looked him in the eyes. They alone had not changed. They were bright, and they were blue, and they were hungry.

Panic flared in my chest as I realized what I'd recognized in him, why he'd seemed so familiar. The lie of John Smith evaporated as the cloud of lust consuming me fell away. In his eyes, there was a hunger, a hunger I recognized all too well from the eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.

"You're like me," I whispered.

The laughter stopped. His smile vanished. "I'm nothing like you," he said.

Then he was on me. He launched himself at me with all the strength that remained to him. My pulse pounded in my head as my lust returned, like he'd flipped a switch and turned off my brain. He dragged me down to the ground, and we became a mass of writhing flesh, my huge form against his tiny one. Except his form was no longer quite so tiny.

The beginnings of new muscles stood out against his pale skin, and I felt his cock in my hand lengthening precipitously. At the same time, I felt a strange new sensation. A lassitude crept into my immense muscles, and the world swayed dizzily around me.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking everything back," he said, breathless. "For all of them."

I wanted to scream, wanted to flee, but all I could do was grasp at his body as pectorals exploded out of his flat chest, as his six-pack returned and deepened into eight defined bricks of muscle, as his cock reached and surpassed its old size.

By now he was truly beautiful, ascended beyond the mere attractiveness that had drawn my eyes so many times in the gym. His cheeks were dark with stubble that gleamed like gold, and as I watched, his jaw hardened and firmed over a wrestler's neck thick with muscle.

All the while, I felt him tear away all that I had worked for. The tiles clawed at my back as my spine shortened, and they dug deeper and deeper into the softening musculature there. I felt our cocks pressing against each other, and realized with sudden shock that his was near as big as mine and growing.

The heat of the shower vanished, went abruptly cold, and the shock was enough for me to break free from his thrall. I kicked at him and scrambled to my feet, but fell again as I tried to run. The tiles were slick, and I was unused to being so small. I couldn't have been more than six feet tall, now, and my muscles were those of a mere athlete.

I hit the ground, and blinding pain shot through my side. Behind me, I heard the man who had called himself John get uncertainly to his feet. He padded through the puddling, chilling water toward me. I scrabbled and scraped toward the exit of the showers, but deprived of the cold water's shock, the dull feeling of acceptance was cresting back over me like a black wave.

"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you," John said.

"Yes," I wailed, the sound dull and echoing in my ears.

"Thought you were the only one. Oh, we're rare, all right. Dozens, perhaps. Maybe hundreds. But the best part of it was that you thought you were so damned special."

"I. Am. Special." Rage flickered in my chest, and died.

John knelt beside me. His hand rested on one of my shoulders, and the draining, weakening sensation returned. "You're not. Just a victim of circumstance. A beneficiary, I should say. At least until now."

"Let me... go," I said. Blackness pressed in on my field of vision.

"I don't think so," John said. "You're still dangerous. You were dangerous from the moment it got inside of you."

I collapsed back onto the ground. It hurt to breathe. Tears streamed down my face. "It?"

"You don't know?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "It's a symbiote. You probably wouldn't have noticed. They're not always apparent. Like people, some of them are dumber than others. Yours probably never even tried to communicate with you. Oh, but they are a nasty little tool. The ultimate form of wish fulfillment for stunted little monsters like you."

"But I was... I was small. I was... insignificant. I'm so much... so much more... now," I protested. I was unable to ignore the feel of my body sliding against the floor as it shrank. John seemed to be everywhere, impossibly large by comparison. His voice had attained an echoing rumble. It was erotic and deep as he spoke.

"Kellan. Poor Kellan. You could have been happy with who you were. You never had to be like this, but you chose this path. Haven't you heard? Size isn't everything."

Prickles of pain built in the core of every one of my muscles at once. My back arched involuntarily, and I grunted. The sound came back to me, high-pitched and weaker than I recalled. I was as small as I had been before Travis. No, smaller.

"What... are you... doing?" I asked, hissing around the jolts of pain.

"Taking it all. The symbiote. Any excess strength. And your potential to build muscle, such as it is. I can't let you harm anyone else. I'm sorry for this. I'm so, so sorry."

The pain winked out. John stood, and my eyes traveled up the length of his body. His feet were huge, and tanned legs like redwoods covered in veins and striations rose for what seemed like forever, framing a cock that stretched almost to his knees. Its base was framed in a thick tangle of dark golden hair. Above that, a wall of abs stretched into the distance, ending beneath two boulder-like pectorals. Above, I could only see the barest glimmers of a face, a beautiful, angelic face with a devil's white grin.

That face turned away. The ground shook with his steps as he walked to the exit of the shower.

"Don't," I begged. "Don't leave me like this. You can't. How can you--"

He snorted. "Call it karma. What goes around comes around."

I shrieked. The shards of the sound fell around us like broken glass. "Thief," I said.

"Look at it this way," he said, and the terrible anger in his voice silenced me. "I have to go piece back together the lives you've ruined. All you have to do is live."

He left.

I'll spare you the details of how I lay there for hours before getting back to my feet. He'd left me with the muscles of a child, weak and trembling, and barely enough height for me to be considered a man. But he also left me with clothing to fit my new size. I slipped out past the sleeping girl at the front desk, shivering and shaking, certain that I would never be great--or even normal--again.

And it's taken a while, but I'm working on something new. After all, there was a time before when I was only special on the inside. A little quicker on the uptake. Superior, but not where people could see.

It may take a bit, but once I get back on my feet, I'm going to go after 'John' and make him pay. Maybe he won't be the first, but I'll get there. You'll see. So I apologize in advance if you get in my way. He's taken something from me, and you know how it goes, that old saying...

What goes around comes around.