From: ac118@chebucto.ns.ca (Marc Adrien Godin) 

The following is a story involving graphic description of sex between
men. If you are not legal age to view pornography (usually 19), or if
the idea of gay sex is not your moral cup of tea, I suggest you grow up
before reading this.

Now for a note about this story. It's a little more involved than most
muscle growth stories, indeed most pornographic stories. I just started
writing it, and realized that there were deeper ideas hidden beneath my
fetish for transformation/muscle growth. If there's a moral here, it's
that transformation of any kind affects -all- of you, your body, mind,
and soul.

Hopefully my moralizing doesn't get in the way of the story.

One final note: the nature of good and evil reflected in this story do
not necessarily reflect my personal views on good and evil. They are
meant as examples. Personally, I'm agnostic. :)

Enjoy!


The Deal, Part 1 -Temptation (M/M Muscle Growth)


Mike dodged through the crowds, his breath loud in his ears as he tried
to catch the bus. The city streets were like a river pushing him in the
wrong direction, but somehow he managed to fight the current, slowly
making progress.

He wouldn't make it, though. As he ran, he saw the bus pull up to the
stop, the doors open and people started getting off. If he'd managed to
leave that meeting thirty seconds sooner -

But there was no point in wishful thinking. He put more effort into the
run, sweat dampening his business suit. If he'd been in better shape,
maybe, or imressive enough to cause the crowds to part -

He was almost at the bus stop when the doors began to close.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, but then his hope was rekindled as he saw the
doors open again. Standing just inside was a large, handsome sort of man
who waved to him. Mike nodded greatfully and stepped onto the bus.

"I saw you running," said the man, following him to the rear of the bus
where, miraculously, two seats were free. "I guess I got the driver to
take his head out of his ass just in time."

Mike took a moment to get a better look at the guy who'd saved his
afternoon. He was large, muscular, his black suit strained to its limits
by his biceps as he lowered himself into the seat. The cloth seemed
specially designed to drape itself across his huge back, making an
almost perfect "V" with his narrow waist. The man's face was almost as
impressive as his body. Full lips and a hwak-like nose were positioned
-just- -right- on his square-jawed face. He seemed to have a day's
growth of stubble that added just the right texture to give him an aura
of danger. His short black hair looked carefully maintained, but what
really struck Mike was the man's eyes. They seemed almost black, twin
pools that he could not help staring into.

"I'm Michael Abriel," Mike said, suddenly feeling compelled to introduce
himself to this man.

The men took his hand before he was even aware he'd offered it, and with
a steady, confident shake replied "You can call me Alex Dervish."

"Thanks again for the -"

"Oh, I am certain it was no problem. In fact, I can't help but wonder if
there isn't another way I could help you."

As Alex talked, Mike realised that maybe this man -could- help him with
something else, although he couldn't quite think of what that might be.
Odd, how Alex's eyes seemed to dance that way...as though there were
tiny specks of light being swallowed by his oh-so-dark eyes. Mike
thought he could see a pattern there, and found himself trying to stare
even deeper.

"What is it you do for a living, Mike?"

"I'm a lawyer . . ." Mike trailed off as the flecks of light twirled and
spun as they were swallowed by Alex's eyes. Deeper and deeper he looked.

"A lawyer, how dreadful. But then, we all must do our part. Some of the
best deals are to be made with lawyers." Alex's lips twisted in a
half-smile. A part of Mike felt a shiver of fear, but a larger part just
wanted to keep staring into Alex's fascinating eyes. He didn't even
notice when the bus passed his apartment. "And do I have a deal to offer
you. Do you really like working as a lawyer, Michael?"

Mike realized then that he didn't.

"It's boring, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," strange, how Mike's thoughts seemed to echo Alex's calm,
soothing voice.

"I can offer you something better. You would like that very much,
wouldn't you?"

Alex did. Very much.

***

He did not remember going to sleep, in fact, he didn't remember very
much at all after getting on the bus. But somehow he had managed to get
home, where he now sat up and yawned, stretching. It was morning, but
instead of that daily dread he used to feel at going to work, he felt
oddly carefree.

He felt pretty good, actually. He hopped out of bed and went to the
window, opening it and enjoying the feel of the breeze on his naked
chest. Laughing at how wonderful life was, he turned around and started
making himself some breakfast. He wolfed it down, with a voracious
appetite, and then picked up the phone.

Today was too wonderful to waste inside an office, dealing with idiots
who either were too greedy for their own good or didn't know when to
quit. He'd never felt this irritated before, and he knew that he just
couldn't go in to work. He dialled the office.

"Janice, could you tell Mr. Harolds that I won't be coming in today?"
Mike asked the secretary when she answered.

"Are you sick, Mr. Abriel?" She asked.

"No," Mike answered, and suddenly an odd feeling came over him. "I just
think I've had enough with working in that dump."

"Pardon me?" Janice replied, shocked.

"You heard me." Mike answered. He sneered into the phone, but inside he
felt wonderful. Wasn't this the -real- american dream? To one day just
quit? Wait . . . that wasn't the dream. "But maybe I should tell Mr.
Harolds myself. Patch me through."

"Are you drunk?" Janice asked, suddenly concerned. "Mike, are you
alright?"

-Shut up, you bitch-, Mike thought, but instead he said, "Sure I am.
Just reassessed my priorities. Now patch me through."

The -real- american dream was to tell off your boss, and Mike did just
that. A sense of power slowly filled him as he first started insulting
the company, ignoring Mr Harolds' confused replies. His heart rose when
he finally awakened his boss' anger, gleefully shouting back and the
man's angered accusations. By the time the conversation was done, Mike
realized two things: that he had forever damaged his reputation at that
firm, and possibly every firm in the city, and that he had a raging
hard-on.

The exhileration quickly passed before he even fully realised what had
happened. Slowly the breathlessness and pleasure he had felt was
replaced with dread. Did he just quit his job? Ruin his career?

Still, hadn't it felt good? He replayed the event in his mind, and as he
did so, his dick got hard again. He'd never been so assertive, and it
had been great to tell Mr Harolds how tired he was of sucking ass. The
power he'd felt had almost been physical, filling his body with a sense
of strength. He tried to savour the feeling as he pulled down his boxers
and started to jack off, pulling on his dick with an intensity he hadn't
felt in years.


With that finished, he started feeling more like his old self. With
nothing to do, he puttered around the house, straightening a few things
up, but he realised that he didn't really want to be here. Something
nagged at the back of his mind, something about yesterday. Stray
thoughts kept pulling his mind back to the moment when he got off work,
as though a part of him was trying to tell him something, but strangely
his thoughts kept slipping past that period of lost time. He felt a
little concerned, but not really. Still, it bugged him.

Restlessness, he decided. It was time to go out.

He showered, taking a little longer to soap up his solid 5'11", 170
pound frame, taking much longer to soap up his dick, jack off, and then
rinse off. He whistled as he stepped out of the shower, toweling himself
dry. He felt good.

And looked good, he realized. His short dark hair was spiky after his
haphazard attempt at towel drying, his green eyes sparkled. His nose was
well-proportioned, over lips that weren't too thin or too pouty. He
wondered if he should shave the dark band of stubble, but postponed the
decision until after he'd done everything else: he kinda liked the look
the stubble gave him, almost dangerous.

Mike kept himself in good shape, and he took a moment to admire his
lean, tight body. He knew he was good looking, even though it had taken
a few years of being hit on by the guys at the bars for him to realise
it. He considered himself lucky that he didn't have to spend any time at
the gym to keep his form.

Although now, as he looked, he realised that maybe he could do with a
little gym work. He felt like he was looking a little scrawny. He looked
exactly the same, he supposed, but maybe he was in need of a change.
Flexing his arms, he decided that yes, he could stand a few hours in the
gym, pumping iron.

Still, this didn't dampen his mood too much. After musing over this, he
grinned at himself in the mirror, his old, familiar grin. Except, didn't
it look a little different now? Maybe it was the way he felt, the rush
from telling off his boss, but didn't that small curve of his lip, the
tilt of his head, give him almost a -predatory- look? Dangerous seemed
to be the word for the day. The odd thing was, it kinda felt sexy.

He grinned again, his old grin this time. "Fuck, I just need to get out
of here."

***

He chose jeans and a white t-shirt, not really noticing his choice. He
guessed that since it was his day off, he might as well dress like a
slacker. Not that he looked like a slacker: the t-shirt was a little
tight on him, and the jeans hugged his thighs and crotch, showing off
his assets. It added to the sexy feeling he was having.

Without any idea of where he was headed, Mike grabbed his keys and
wallet and left. The day was still bright, and Mike felt that it was
loaded with possibilities. It was around lunch time, and his stomach
growled, so he headed to a small streetside cafe, just a few minutes
from his apartment.

Amadeus was well known as a cruising place, where men could pick up men
with the added benefit of being well-lit. Mike had eaten there before,
but he usually tried to go with a group of friends, although today he
felt different. Perhaps today was a cruising day.

He found a small tabel where he could see most of the patio, and where
most of the patio could see him, and he watched. It wasn't long before
his eyes settled on something.

The man looked familiar to him for some reason. His dark hair, full
lips, and dark, almost black eyes filled him with fascination. This man
was gorgeous. But why did he look so familiar?

Mike felt a thrill when his eyes made the first tentative contact with
the other man's. He smiled, trying to look nonchalant, but then suddenly
changed tactics. He tried out his new, dangerous grin, as if to dare the
man to look at him. And his eyes held! Time seemed to stretch, and Mike
realized how turned on this guy made him. He seemed to bring on a
predatory side to him, making him feel like taking risks, sexy. His dick
hardened in his pants as he stared, his gaze seeming to fall into the
man's twin black hole eyes. He saw him stand, a tall man with a large
build, a black business suit that seemed to stretch over his immense
muscles. Mike could sense power in the man, and he felt a sort of hunger
for that power. The man started to walk over.

"Excuse me."

The voice startled Mike out of his reverie, and he broke eye contact
with the stranger to look up and to his left, where the voice had come
from.

"Is that seat taken?" The man was fair-haired and blue-eyed. His
features seemed to blend into a strange look of sexiness and innocence
that caught Mike entirely off-guard.

"Um...no...no, I guess not," He looked back to her the man had been, and
blinked. The dark-haired guy had vanished. He looked around wildly, but
there was no sign of him.

"Thanks," the newcomer said, sitting down. He extended a strong-looking
hand, "My name's Gabe."

"I'm Mike," he answered, shaking hands. He found Gabe's smile
contagious, and found that he was grinning himself.

"Can I get you something, Mike?"

Mike shrugged, then smiled, and said "Sure."

***

Somehow, Mike and Gabe wasted an entire hour just talking. Mike didn't
know who was more surprised when the conversation suddenly turned into
something more. At one moment they were talking about careers (Gabe
owned a book store, Mike just said he was in law), and the next they
were exchanging phone numbers, with the promise of a first date.

By the time Gabe left (he had a doctor's appointment), Mike had already
forgotten about the darkly-featured stranger. He found himself replaying
the hour in his mind, and even when he thought he was over it, something
would remind him of Gabe's smile, or a joke Gabe had told. He wondered
how much Gabe had planned the encounter, wondered if the man had
tormented himself wondering if he should ask Mike if that chair was
free. He kept feeling like despite how he'd felt earlier that day,
meeting Gabe was like a burst of sunshine through a cloud. He felt
refreshed.

Refreshed, but still restless. He hung around a magazine stand for a
little while, looking to see what was new, but nothing seemed to catch
his eye. He was about to leave, when he heard laughter coming from
around the corner, the alley.

It was a child's laughter, and he almost dismissed it, except that it
sounded so musical. Intrigued, he followed the sound, hoping to find its
source. Besides, he reasoned, a kid shouldn't be playing in an alley
alone, not in the city.

He turned the corner, and heard the sound sneakers smacking pavement as
he caught a glimpse of the kid running around another corner, still
laughing. He couldn't get a good enough look to get any details, so he
followed, sort of jogging through the newspaper and trash that littered
the alley's floor.

Turning that corner, he stopped, and looked around, confused. The alley
ended with a tall wooden wall, but there was no kid to be seen. He
looked around, but there was nothing big enough for a child to hide
behind or in, and no doors through which he or she (for some reason he
felt it was a he, a boy, although he hadn't had a close enough look to
be sure) could have escaped. Mike walked to the wooden fence. If he
jumped, he could just about reach the top, but there was no way a kid
could scale this thing.

"Just my imagination," he muttered, but even as he left the alley, he
caught himself looking back, his brow furrowed with confusion.

***

The afternoon wore on, and Mike, at a loss for things to do, decided to
see a movie. He chose some action movie, trash, maybe. There was bound
to be a few half-naked men in the film, along with a lot of mindless
explosions. Sweaty, naked torsoes as men hefted huge guns was good
enough for this afternoon.

As he opened his wallet to pay the cashier, something red caught his
eye. It was a plastic card, with a black stripe, like a credit card.
Something tugged at his mind, and the next thing he knew, he was using
it to pay for the movie. It cleared, but for some reason he hadn't
doubted it would.

As soon as he returned it to his wallet, it was almost forgotten, his
mind more intent on the film he was about to see. He didn't even notice
that the dangerous grin was back, or that a sort of power had begun
filling his limbs again.

***

The movie went well, until about halfway through. Then things got really
bad.

The movie was fine. Mike's problem was the group of teenagers sitting
right behind him, the big, stupid, ignorant asshole jock in particular.

The ape had come into the theater, groping some cheerleader ditz, his
oafish voice already grating on Mike's nerves. The first words he
uttered were, "What kind of loser sees a movie by himself?" Mike felt an
unfamiliar anger build in him, not entirely unpleasant but more than a
little frightening. Somehow he kept his mouth shut, his face facing the
movie screen as the movie began.

The jock, whose friends kept calling "Ice" for some innane reason that
would probably elude anyone who wasn't a teenager, sat right behind
Mike. It wouldn't have been so bad, if the asshole didn't put his feet
up against the back of Mike's chair, thumping loudly everytime something
blew up.

"Ice" had seen this movie about five or six time, Mike judged. At least
enough to have some of the lines memorized, especially the ones at
critical points, but not enough to get them right half the time.

"'Take this, you asshole', wait, I mean, -this- is where he says 'Die,
whore,'...he calls him an asshole just before he kills him and blows up
the computer!"

Mike wasn't that great at lip reading, which meant he had to take Ice's
word for it.

Anger slowly worked its way into Mike's mind, with every annoying guffaw
from the boar behind him, with every irritating movement, with every
comment that drowned out a piece of dialogue. Mike clenched his fists,
but for some reason that only made him angrier. His own fear grew, too.
What was this? He'd never been this angry before in his whole life! And
over some dimwitted, steroid-popping asshole? For some reason that made
him even angrier. It was like there were two sides in Mike, one side
growing and gaining strength, just barely reined in, ready to explode,
the other side watching and cringing away, realising how much Mike
seemed to like the power his anger gave him, and not wanting to see
things get any further.

Finally, things crescendoed, as "Ice" practically shouted, "Kill the
faggot!" when the villian was about to do in some effeminate character
who seemed designed to die.

Mike stood up and whirled around, his fists clenched into fists. Blood
rushed to his face and sweat began to bead on his forhead. "Would you
mind shutting the hell up?"

The jock's face clouded, then he stood himself. He had a sort of
half-grin on his face, as if he couldn't believe this idiot would dare
challenge him. "What did you say, asshole?"

Mike snapped. His fist came up, almost as if it wasn't his, and
plummetted into the jock's fleshy face. Mike felt a rush of power fill
him, lending strength to his punch, so, before "Ice" could recover, he
hit him again, feeling even stronger. The jock's friends were stunned
into silence, but not Ice. He blinked, and then a low growl began to
emerge from his throat. He lunged at Mike, half climbing over the row of
seats that separated them. Mike dodged, and hit the oaf again, his arms
tingling.

Ice made a swing, catching the side of Mike's jaw, but Mike barely felt
it, taking the chance to hit him again. He felt an almost sexual thrill
as he realized the jock's nose was bleeding. Then Ice hit him again, and
he went down.

He might have lost consciousness, because it seemed as if time skipped.
One second a fist was flying at his face, the next he was struggling to
stand, while a 230-pound ape tried to punch him back down. Suddenly he
felt that his strength had left him. The theatre seemed to fill with
sound - shouts of surprise and fear from the other movie-goers, most
likely - and a flash light beam swung through the theatre as the ushers
began to try to find out what was going on.

Mike got to his feat and turned to run toward the screen, toward the
emergancy exit.

"You ASSHOLE!" He heard the jock shout after him, but the voice was far
away, and soon a heavy door was between him and the idiot.

Mike gasped for breath, every limb shaking, but he felt -good-!

"Fuck!" He gasped. "Fuck! Fuck!"

Sweat ran down his forhead, and his t-shirt stuck to his flesh, feeling
tighter than normal, but then, he was -pumped-. His blood pounded in his
ears, every part of him felt completely alive. He felt a strange power
suffuse his being, fill him from head to toe. He laughed, his voice
sounding raw and wild.

He hadn't been in a fight since grade school. Back then he'd tried to
avoid combat, since he'd always been smaller than most of the other
kids. He'd gone into law because that was a way to fight without relying
on physical strength, but now . . . he'd held his own! Against a man
over sixty pounds heavier than he was!

His cock was hard, straining against his jeans, emphasising the feeling
he had that he was big all over. He felt like a bigger man, like his
clothes were tighter. It was almost like he'd undergone a physical
transformation.

As he left the building, finally emerging into an alley, he rubbed his
swollen bulge, feeling sexy and horny and hot. He wiped away the trickle
of blood from his nose and grinned. He felt -wonderful-.

"Fuck." He said again. His breath was coming back to him, but the
euphoria hadn't left. If anything, he felt more restless, like a tiger
on the prowl.

He wandered out of the alley, still dazed. He wouldn't have noticed the
black limo that pulled up in front of him if the door hadn't opened. But
it did, and the dark-haired stranger, the man with the almost-black
eyes, motioned to him from inside. Mike's cock swelled a little more,
filling his crotch with almost painful heat.

The euphoria increased, along with horniness. He knew that this man
wanted him, and suddenly he felt the same way. He grinned dangerously
and slid into the car.

"Mike," the man said.

"Alex," Mike didn't understand how he knew the man's name, but he did.
He felt strange in his presence, a jumble of emotion. He felt the sexual
tension, true, but underneath there was a bizarre mixture of comfort and
fear, like he could tell this man anything, but that maybe he shouldn't.
The air tingled with the man's power.

The inside of the limo was dark, just light enough for Mike to see Alex
as the large man shrugged out of his jacket and undid his tie, a wry
smile flitting across his lips. He stretched, or at least tried to in
the confines of the car, and Mike could see corded muscle ripple and
flex underneath his shirt.

"You feel comfortable, Mike."Alex said, and suddenly all of Mike's fears
bled away. He knew that he was going to have sex with this man, and just
then that was all he wanted. A thought of Gabe fluttered at the edges of
his thoughts, like a phantom. But like a phantom, it was weak and
powerless, unable to touch him.

Mike reached over and touched Alex's huge arm, feeling the strength
beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. Alex leaned back and sighed with
pleasure as Mike leaned into him. Mike pressed his head into Alex's
chest, gently tonguing his nipples through the shirt, his actions coming
as naturally as if he was being guided, but Alex only leaned back, his
eyes closed, his mouth forming a small smile of pleasure.

Mike grabbed and squeezed Alex's arms, his hands not even wide enough to
cover the mounds of muscle, while at the same time he buried his face in
Alex's pecs, feeling the massive crease where the slabs of muscle met,
returning to the nipples, exploring the entire territory of his chest.

"Michael," Alex purred. "My dear, dear Michael. You like my muscle,
don't you?"

Mike moaned gently in ascent.

"You like to feel the power, the strength and size. You want it for your
own," Alex spread his legs, and Mike moved so that he knelt between
them, his face now feeling its way around Alex's abs, his arms roaming
the massive expanse of chest. His fingers, seemingly of their own
volition, began to unbutton Alex's shirt, and he felt a thrill of
pleasure shiver down his spine when he felt Alex's large hands start to
rub his back.

"And you will get it," Alex's hands found their way beneath Mike's
t-shirt, carressing his flesh with strength and lust. Mike could feel
Alex's power seeping into him, coming from a seemingly endless store.
"We've made a deal, you and I, and you've already begun to pay your
half." Alex's voice was soothing, Mike enjoyed listening to it as his
head went lower and lower. He touched Alex's belt with his teeth, his
chin grazing across a lump that could only be Alex's cockhead, trapped
within his pants.

"And so I will begin to give you your reward." Alex cooed.

Mike felt a weird separation occur inside his head. One part of him
seemed to be screaming, pent up emotion struggling to get out. Lust and
anger and fear and hate all boiled just beneath the surface, his cock
was hard, and all he wanted was release. Another part was lulled by
Alex's voice, giving the entire scene a dreamlike quality.

Alex's hands left Mike's back and brushed back Mike's hair. Then Alex
undid his pants, giving Mike access to the huge, almost inhuman
cockhead. Alex's dick seemed to crawl, snakelike, from its lair within
his pants, slithering and straightening until it was erect, its tip just
shy of Alex's rib cage, as thick as Mike's wrist. Mike licked it gently,
and then encircled the cockhead with his mouth, sucking gently.

It seemed the perfect dick. Even though it was huge, it fit perfectly
into Mike's mouth as he took it in, almost as if it was made for it. His
throat seemed to widen just to accomodate its expanse. He felt Alex's
hands on his head, pushing him deeper, and he half expected to gag, but
he didn't, and soon even that fear faded away. Everything vanished in
the flood of feelings, the sensation of power, flooding from Alex's dick
into his body. He gave head like a pro, Alex's hands guiding his
movements, coaxing out an instinct never before realized. Power filled
him, electric, making him complete.

"You're good," Alex shuddered. "But you will get better."

Alex shuddered again, and then Mike could feel the man's come filling
him. His own dick throbbed in synchrony, filling his jeans with his own
sperm. Mike pulled his head away from Alex's dick and sighed. He felt
like a baby, finally sated with his mother's milk.

He leaned his head against Alex's abs and closed his eyes. As he fell
asleep, he thought he heard the man say "You're already bigger."


To be continued.....

-- Marc Godin aka MagusX ac118@chebucto.ns.ca




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From: ac118@chebucto.ns.ca (Marc Adrien Godin) Newsgroups:
alt.sex.stories.gay.moderated Subject: New Story: The Deal, part 2 (M/M
Muscle Growth) Date: Thu, 20 Nov 1997 23:44:06 GMT Organization: ASSGM
Posting Guidelines/FAQ:
http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Heights/8885

The following is a story graphically depicting gay male sex. If you are
not of legal age to view pornography (usually 19) or if gay male sex is
not your moral cup of tea, I suggest you grow up.

Part 2....enjoy...


The Deal, Part 2 - Sacrifice (M/M, Muscle Growth)


He woke up in an alley somewhere, his head aching and the inside of his
mouth felt fuzzy, like he'd been drinking. One hell of a hangover. What
had happened? Where was he? The alley was already completely dark, and
by the light coming from the street he could tell it was almost sunset.

Mike managed to move, barely. His head pounded with pain, and every
muscle seemed sore. He felt achy all over, and his clothes pinched. He
staggard to the edge of the alley, squinting at the fading sunlight and
the neon signs as he tried to get his bearings.

He was close to home, he guessed. Maybe a fifteen minute walk. As he
moved, the stiffness worked its way out of his joints, and his head
cleared of pain, but it was replaced with a sort of dizziness, a high.
It didn't feel bad, though, and Mike was almost able to enjoy it, except
for the vague feeling of unease, the feeling that he'd done something he
would regret.

His clothes pinched, though, like they'd shrunk a little. His jeans felt
too tight in the thighs and crotch (this was a mixed feeling, both
unpleasant and sexy), and his t-shirt felt like it was sticking to his
flesh, the sleeves only coming down a third of the way of his biceps,
dimpling the skin. A chilly wind blew and he shivered.

Fifteen minutes? He was probably a little further away than that. The
cool wind nagged at him, and although he started to feel a little
better, maybe even a little stronger than usual, he felt an overpowering
urge to avoid the cold.

Suddenly, fate smiled upon him. He stopped in front of a picture window
of some clothing store. There, on display, was a black leather jacket,
the lights glinting dimly off its surface. It looked heavy, and he
suddenly wanted the weight of it on his shoulders.

He remembered the red card in his wallet, and had the feeling that it
contained as much money as he would ever need, but he shook his head
with disgust. That would be too much hassle. Besides, a part of him
urged, wouldn't it be fun to do something else?

He grinned his new grin. Looking both ways, he saw no one on the street.
He pulled his arm back, and punched the glass as hard as he could. It
cracked straight down the middle, setting off an alarm, but didn't
break. So he punched it again, wincing at a sharp pain in his knuckles.

That did it. The glass shattered. Mike reached in and grabbed the coat,
laughing as he ran away. As soon as he was safe, he put it on, enjoying
the feel of it on his shoulders, feeling like it made him bigger. He
caught his reflection in another window and realised that he did look
bigger. He stopped for a moment and admired the stud reflected back at
him, wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt, a black leather jacket
completing the image. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he looked
like a dangerous muscle stud. The jacket did wonders.

***

When he got home, he was beginning to feel really uncomfortable. As soon
as he'd taken the jacket, he'd begun feeling that strange power rush
through him, filling his body with a strange sort of feeling. His mind
even buzzed, sending on some mysterious high where he felt better than
he had in his life.

The downside was that his clothes started to feel tighter. In a way, it
was kind of sexy, like he was getting bigger, but it was more annoying
than anything else. His shirt sleeves dug into his flesh, his chest felt
too restrained. He just wanted to get out of these clothes.

The moment he entered his door he took off the jacket, hanging it
carefully on the back of a chair, and headed to the bathroom. After he'd
peeled the shirt off his chest, he gaped at his reflection.

Looking back at him was a man with the body of a serious athlete.
Swollen muscle covered his body, giving him a sleak, powerful look. His
torso had taken on a "V" shape, his upper back having widened and his
pecs grown. His shoulders were wider, bigger, and his biceps stood out
even when he wasn't flexing. His wide, strong chest narrowed to a slim
waist, his abs clearly visible under his flesh. A line of pubic hair
drew his gaze down to his crotch, where the bulge in his jeans was far
larger than could be explained by his growing hard-on. He felt the denim
mold itself to his ass, could see by its tautness that his thighs had
grown, but his eyes kept returning to his dick.

He undid his belt and slowly peeled his jeans off his legs. He could see
his dick clearly through the precum-soaked underwear. It was almost
unreal, to see such a massive piece of flesh. He'd always been on the
upper side of average in that department, but now it looked like he blew
average away. He stripped off his underwear, freeing his hard cock. He
held it in his right hand, feeling the weight as it pulled on his groin.
With his other hand he reached up and touched his pecs, at first
hesitantly, and then with growing lust.

Whatever had happened, he wanted more of it. He slowly began to stroke
his cock, trying to guess at how big it must be. Maybe ten inches? A
little more? It was so wide that his hand could not get all the way
around it. He had ample precum, and soon his dick was lubed, his hand
sliding over its mass as he stroked his own chest, squeezing his nipple
gently, before moving down to feel the mounds of his six-packed abs.

He threw his head back in pleasure, and made his way to the couch where
he lay down, feeling a buzz in his head like he was high on something.
It was unreal, and he stroked himself until he came, his come
splattering all over him, feeling hot against his warm flesh. A burning
began in his groin, almost painful, but more like pleasure. He felt it
spread over his body, and he could almost feel it -changing- him. He had
an image of fire, as the heat spread. A fire that purified and
transformed whatever it touched. Down to his toes it went, and up
through his muscled arms. It touched his head, and suddenly the image
became real. He seemed to be standing over an ocean of fire, in a
cavernous world. He felt a power suffuse through him, and he knew that
he held dominion over this burning land. There was only one that he had
to answer to, and he knew that he would always be a servant. Lust filled
him as he imagined serving his Master -

And then the image faded away. The burning left his body, and he
dismissed it all as an overactive imagination. His thoughts slowed, he
felt drowsy. He forgot about how he'd found the leather jacket, about
the changes that had transformed him. Instead, he slipped into sleep. It
was there that Alex's face was recalled, and only there that he realised
the peril he was in.

***

The phone rang, suddenly pulling him from sleep. Groggily he went to the
phone. He felt strange, like the way he moved had changed, like he was
heavier. His drowsy mind could not put this change into context before
he had picked up the receiver and muttered a bleary "Hello?"

"Mike?" Mike recognised the voice, but could not name it. He blinked,
trying to get his vision back. He felt sore, so he sat back down on the
couch.

"Yeah?" He groaned. He -did- feel heavier. What had -

"Are you alright?" Suddenly Mike recognised the voice as Gabe's. Knwoing
this cleared his head like a ray of sunshine through dense fog.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I was . . . napping." Mike looked out the window, and
was surprised to see it was daylight. He'd slept the whole night away?
Was it morning? He looked around for a clock.

"Oh." Gabe hesitated. "Well, I was just wondering if you'd like to get
together sometime."

Mike stopped, his eyes glued to his reflection.

"Mike?"

It all came back to him, or at least most of it. He still couldn't
remember what had happened on the bus, or yesterday afternoon, but he
remembered coming home, seeing his reflection, the extra mass that
shouldn't have been there. He was still naked, and his cock began to
stir from where it lay against his thigh.

He hadn't grown any bigger since last night, but he did look different.
He still hadn't shaved, but his stubble hadn't grown out much more than
before. It -was- darker, but that only seemed to give him a squarer jaw,
a more sexy face. His skin was darker, too, as if he'd just spent a
couple weeks in a sunny part of the world. The tan seemed to emphasize
his increase in muscle, making him look bigger and sexier.

"Mike are you there?"

"Um...yeah. I am, just...uh...I thought I saw something outside the
window."

"So?"

"So...um...sure, I'd love to do something," this, at least, was true.
Gabe seemed to touch a part of Mike that needed to be touched. He'd only
spent an hour with the man, but he suspected that there might be
something there between them.

"How about dinner? Tomorrow night?"

Mike forgot about the sudden changes, when he realized just what was
happening. Gabe was asking him out!

"Sure! Where will I meet you?"

"How about I pick you up?"

Mike agreed and told Gabe his address. They talked a while longer, but
Mike didn't hold up to well on his side as he began to be distracted by
his new body again. They said their goodbyes, and then Mike was alone
again.

He was about to jack off again, when something -did- catch his eye
outside of the window. He looked out and down, to the street. Playing in
the road, he could see a blond-haired kid, a boy. For some reason this
child held his attention, and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
Laughter drifted up from the street, and he recognised it as the same
innocent laughter he'd heard yesterday morning.

Grabbing his jacket, he ran down the two flights of stairs and out into
the street, but by the time he got there, the boy was gone, only an echo
of his carefree laughter remained.

***

He spent the next day at home. Restlessness gnawed at him, but he had a
strange feeling that if he left the apartment he might not get back in
time to meet Gabe. He had to pass the time somehow, and so he divided it
between jacking off and worrying himself sick over how to hide the
changes in his body from Gabe.

Strictly speaking, there was no reason why he -had- to hide. He felt
that he could trust Gabe. The thing was, he knew that if anyone saw
these sudden changes, questions would be asked, and Mike felt a strange
reluctance to answer those questions. He felt like once he tried to
explain things, it would lead to more questions. He'd have to talk about
his strange impulses, his growing loss of control, his newly-acquired
bad temper. He'd have to try to remember those strange periods where his
memory seemed to fail, and for some reason he definitely did not want to
do that. He felt like those moments were a secret, a private time, and
he didn't want anyone to invade them.

He experimented with different clothes, and this was an experiemnce in
itself. Anything that used to be somewhat tight on him was absolutely
too small now. He ended up trashing half his wardrobe. The other half
was a different experience altogether.

Anything he tried on seemed not only to show his assets, but to
accentuate them. His shirts clung invitingly to his chest, stretched
impressively around his biceps, and molded themselves to his wide back.
His pants all seemed to lift his cock and balls, as though he meant to
show them off....which, in a way, he did. If he hadn't been so concerned
about Gabe's reaction, he probably would have been in the streets
half-naked by now.

Just the idea made his dick hard. He ended up jacking off 9 times that
day, the ninth time mostly because he had never been so horny, and the
idea that his sex drive was up made him hornier.

He was just finishing up when the buzzer sounded. Gabe was here!

In a panic, Mike grabbed jeans and a clean white t-shirt. Putting on his
leather jacket, he realised this was the best he could do. The jacket
seemed to have a dual nature: it hid the changes, but seemed to
accentuate them at the same time. He looked like the old Mike, only
bigger, more dangerous. He grinned his new grin while he looked at his
reflection, and his dick throbbed. He rubbed it through the denim, a
sigh of pleasure escaping his lips, and then Gabe knocked at the door.

***

The bistro that Gabe took them to was unfamiliar to Mike, although he'd
heard some good things about it from his more cultured friends. Gabe had
made reservations, and so seating wasn't a problem. Their table was
small, with a candle burning in the middle. The lights were dimmed
throughout the restaraunt, giving the whole building a romantic air.

As they looked over the menu, they made small talk, tentatively feeling
each other out, trying to guage what they were getting into. Mike
discovered that Gabe shared many of his interests, but had some that
intrigued him. Somehow Gabe managed to maintain an air of mystery that
only made Mike want to know more, while at the same time, Gabe seemed to
really -listen- to Mike.

After the waitor had taken their order, Gabe reached across the table,
taking Mike's hands into his own. It seemed an almost casual gesture,
except that he kept gazing into Mike's eyes as he did it. Their
conversation skipped a beat, and it would have been awkward, except that
Mike could almost feel a connection forming between them.

As they talked, Mike took in Gabe's features, memorizing the way he
smiled (gorgeously), the way his brow furrowed when he asked a question
(adorably), the way he winked when he told a joke (beautifully).

By the time dinner was served, Mike was certain that he liked this man
very much, that if he wasn't careful "like" could turn into "love".

But as he ate, something changed. One part of him remained focused on
Gabe, going on as predicted, overjoyed whenever they discovered a common
bond, intrigued when a minor chord of tension was struck. But another
part of him grew restless.

The restaraunt began to seem cramped to him, too warm and stuffy. He was
famished, but the food tasted strange, wrong somehow. One of his forks
had a spot on it, and he felt his temper flare briefly. These people
were -paid- to clean the dishes, couldn't they put some effort into it?

The waiter kept coming back to ask if everything was alright, and Mike
began to resent the pestering slob. He wanted to tell him that the meat
was soggy and spongy, that the vegetables had had all their flavour
boiled out of them, that the rice tasted like crap.

Gabe seemed to sense something was wrong, and seemed about to ask what,
when the waiter came back again, to tell Mike that the dessert he'd
ordered wasn't available that night.

Mike stood up and roared, "WHAT?"

He felt the now-familiar tingle spread through his body, power seemed to
dance in his veins. He felt like someone had shot him up with some
high-octane drug, like crack or speed.

"Mike, calm d-" Gabe stopped as his hand rested on Mike's arm. He had
intened to pull Mike down, but his eyes widened as he realised just how
large Mike's arm was. "Mike, what's happened to you?"

Mike suddenly came to himself. He saw the waiter, wide-eyed and
shivering, take a step back. He saw Gabe looking up at him, his blue
eyes wide with concern. He saw the entire restaraunt looking at him,
surprise, fear, and curiosity mingled in their features. The strength
drained from his limbs, and suddenly he felt like sobbing. Instead, he
pushed his seat back, knocking it over, and ran from the shop.

***

As he ran, rage replaced shame. The tingling began again, stronger this
time, as if angered at having been denied in the bistro. He needed to
hurt something, to break something. He felt like he'd betrayed Gabe
somehow, but gradually he began to feel that it was right to do so.
Maybe he had liked the man, but Gabe could only hold him back. A small
part of him held out against this, but eventually was defeated. He felt
that part wail in despair as if it was ripped out of him

He bent down and grabbed a fist-sized rock. Then, with all his strength,
he hurled it at a window. The smash was satisfying, and he felt pleasure
course through his body as the tingling changed pitch. It grew into a
need, and suddenly he knew what he had to do.

He ran through the city streets. One person found themselves in his way
and he pushed them to the ground. This seemed even better than breaking
some inanimate object.

He suddenly turned on the man, and began to pound his face in. He
imagined the face to be the waiter's, or Mr. Harolds'. The man was
crying by the time he stopped, his face a bloody mess. Mike tossed him
to the ground, finished with him.

He'd stopped because something had changed. His clothes felt tighter
again, his shoulders pushed against the leather jacket, its sleeves
stretched when he bent his arms. He was getting bigger!

Suddenly he was filled with lust. He wanted someone to see his new body,
suck his new cock which he knew was bigger. He wanted to ram his hard
dick up someone's ass, whether they wanted it or not.

Then he saw the strange man again. -Alex- the name appeared in his mind,
fseeming to fill his head with its importance.

The world seemed to stop as Alex walked toward him. Alex looked even
bigger this time, more impressive, loaded with muscle. Gone was his
suit, or most of it. He still wore his pants, that were stretched in the
thighs and crotch, but he was bare-chested. As he walked under a neon
light, his flesh seemed to take on a reddish hue, but then it was back
to flesh colour again as the dark man came closer.

He reached out, as if seeking to embrace Mike with his massive arms, and
Mike suddenly found himself kneeling before him. The image of a land of
fire returned to him, and he knew suddenly that this man was his Master.

A wind began to gust around them, sending garbage spinning like a
cyclone as Mike hurriedly pulled at Alex's pants, revealing a monster
cock. He sucked him off while Alex calmly stroked his hair and upper
back.

"You are almost mine," Alex said. "And you will get bigger."

Mike's world vanished beneath wind and fire, muscle and cock.

To be continued...


-- Marc Godin aka MagusX ac118@chebucto.ns.ca




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From: ac118@chebucto.ns.ca (Marc Adrien Godin) Newsgroups:
alt.sex.stories.gay.moderated Subject: New Story: The Deal, part 3 (M/M
Muscle Growth, violence) Date: Thu, 20 Nov 1997 23:44:42 GMT
Organization: ASSGM Posting Guidelines/FAQ:
http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Heights/8885

Part 3: usual disclaimers apply, except now in addition to mentioning
the legal age limit for viewing porn (usually 19), and your own personal
views on gay male sex (homophobes, leave), I will also warn you that it
gets a little violent. Tame by S/M standards, but some of you out there
are squeamish.

Comments definitely welcome, spams certainly ignored. Enjoy.


The Deal, Part 3 - Fire (M/M, Muscle Growth, violence)

He woke up in his room, naked. The phone was ringing.

Mike remembered everything, and although the entire situation should
have filled him with fear, he felt instead exhileration. His memory
wasn't perfect: he could only vaguely recall missing his stop on that
first day, and meeting Alex, and could not remember much beyond that
except that Alex had made him a promise. But he could remember seeing
Alex after he exploded at the jock in the movie theatre, he remembered
being enthralled by Alex's size, and needing to worship him. He
remembered the sex (and as he remembered, his dick rose to attention,
already nearing super-human in dimensions), the passion, the feeling of
utter release and abandon.

The phone kept ringing, and suddenly Mike knew he had to answer it. Alex
would want him to.

"Hello?" He asked as he picked up the receiver. He lifted the phone and
took it with him into the bathroom.

"Mike? It's Gabe. What the fuck happened?"

Mike grinned at his reflection. With his free hand, he played with one
of his nipples. He felt that strange tingling in his head again. He
stretched, watching as his muscles flexed and writhed beneath his skin.
Gone was the athlete's body, replaced with a body builder's. More than a
body builder's. He knew that he would tip the scales at 240 pounds now.

"I'm sorry," Mike said, trying to sound innocent, but he couldn't help
but add a touch of mockery to his voice. "I have some serious stuff that
I have to deal with."

"Like what? You seemed like a great guy when we met. It's like you're
two different people." Mike loved the anger in Gabe's voice. Hearing it,
knowing that he was the cause, made the tingle vibrate, take on a
frequency that sent pleasure through his body. He flexed his bicep,
watching in amazement and pride as it peaked. How many inches around?
22? More?

"I know...I -" Mike paused for dramatic effect. Alex had predicted this,
all of it. "It's difficult to explain it over the phone. Can we . .
.could we meet somewhere?"

As Gabe hesitated before answering, Mike felt a small part of him feel
like he really -did- want to explain, and appologize, and maybe try to
set things right. He quashed the idea, and the part of him fled, going
much more easily than before. The new Mike, the dangerous Mike, was
dominant now. He had power, strength, both inside and out. He knew that
he wasn't quite what Alex wanted (and what Alex wanted, the new Mike
wanted), but that only through destroying those weak parts of him could
he complete the change.

"Okay, Mike. Where?" Gabe sounded reluctant, but he agreed, just as Alex
had promised he would.

"It's an old warehouse, by the dock yards," Mike said, and then repeated
the directions Alex had given him.

"Okay, got it. We'll meet now?"

"Yes. I'll see you there." Mike hung up the phone. His grin remained. He
only had vague ideas of what Alex intended, but he knew it wouldn't be
good for Gabe. A small voice cried out against it, but more of him
thought it would be fun. His dick rose to attention, and he began to
stroke it, faster and faster until load after load erupted from him,
matching the tingling blast for blast.

***

He dressed sparsely. No longer did he feel the need to hide his assets.
Tight jeans were all he needed, tight enough so the outline of his
enormous cock could be seen. He didn't need a shirt.

He left his building, and was about to go to the warehouse, when he saw
movement from the corner of his eye.

It was the kid. Suddenly he felt an inner calm. The child's cherubic
face and innocent eyes seemed to dispell the irritation and anger that
roiled within him. He felt a need to follow the boy as he darted around
the corner.

Mike noticed how powerful his run had become as he effortlessly caught
up to the child. He flexed his muscles, and the tingling in his body
increased. The boy seemed to ... waver ... for a moment, but then came
back into focus.

"Michael." The boy said. His voice had a strange ethereal quality to it.
It sounded musical.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I am a Child," the child said, and strangely, that answer seemed to
settle things for Mike.

"Why are you here?"

"I am here because you have strayed." The Child stepped closer, a tiny
hand reaching out and touching Mike's face. He gasped and jerked back.
The touch had been painful at first, but then he'd felt something begin
to flow into him, another sort of power, completely different from the
power Alex gave. It felt cool, soothing. "You are in danger, Michael.
Greater danger than you have ever known."

Mike took a step back. he wanted to feel that touch again, but it
friughtened him. Beneath the child's fragile exterior he'd glimpsed a
power so phenominal that he was not even worth its consideration.

"You've made a deal with someone, but that deal can be broken. He
tricked you. But you have to see through the illusion -"

"Get out of here, sprite!" a wind roared up, and Mike turned to see the
imposing figure of Alex barreling toward him. He seemed larger than
ever, and fire burned in his eyes. Power leapt from him in the form of
blue electric arcs, sending showers of sparks flying whenever they hit
something.

Mike heard a soft cry, and when he turned to look back at the Child, he
was gone.

"Michael," Alex said, his voice commanding. Mike felt the familiar power
wash over him, seeping into him. He longed to use his new muscles, to
feel them grow again. He gave himself over to the greater power. "Come,
we have work to do."

***

"Mike?" Gabe walked into the darkened warehouse, unable to see Mike from
where he watched. Alex was preparing things. He'd said that Mike would
know when to reveal himself. Not yet.

He watched as Gabe walked all the way into the warehouse, letting the
door close behind him. The darkness that engulfed him was then washed
away when a bright spotlight clicked on, the hum from its powerful
generator filling the building. The darkness around the splotlights
glare seemed to be even darker by comparison. Mike could barely make out
the shadowy form of Gabe as he walked closer to the light.

Mike squirmed. He felt awkward somehow, guilty. Remembering how big he
was, how big he could yet become helped, but still he felt a tiny pang
of regret, of fear. A small voice kept asking him what he intended to
do, did he really mean to go through with this? His answer was always
yes, he did. The temptation of muscle lured him, called to him. He'd
never known that changes like this could feel so sexy, that power could
feel so good. Even thinking about it now made his dick hard, his hand
absently stroked his giant pec, encouraging the gentle tingle deep in
his muscle to vibrate pleasantly.

Still, he didn't feel wholly comitted to the pleasure, the temptation.
He felt hesitant to serve Alex, even while he knew that it was what he
needed to do. The image of the Child kept returning unbidden to his
mind, the Child's words about danger echoed in his thoughts.

Then Gabe stepped into the light, and all doubts, all thoughts were
taken from him.

"Mi-?" Gabe began, but he did not finish. His voice was cut off by the
sound of heavy chains as four shackles darted out of the darkness like
pythons, each one securing a limb. Gabe cried out in pain as the chains
pulled tight, lifting him three feet from the ground, suspending him
spread-eagled.

Mike could sense Alex's power in this, just as he could feel Alex's
presence when some unseen hand ripped Gabe's shirt off his chest,
buttons flying everywhere, and pulled down his jeans roughly.

Mike watched in rapt fascination, his right hand at his dick, fondling
his cock through his jeans. The tingling returned full force,
penetrating his mind and body. He knew that this was when Alex wanted
him to show himself.

He stepped into the light, coming at Gabe from behind. Gently he touched
the man's back, feeling his muscles, tiny when compared to his, but
stretched and taut with strain. Gabe whipped his head about, trying to
see who was behind him. Mike reached his hands around to Gabe's front,
pressing his massive chest against Gabe's back. He stroked Gabe's torso,
feeling the thin layer of chest hair. Gently, his fingers found Gabe's
nipples. He heard Gabe sigh, shuddering with fear, but obviously caused
by pleasure.

Then Mike twisted, hard.

Gabe cried out, his voice already harsh. Mike himself threw his head
back. Ecstacy! It was almost as if he could feel Gabe's pain, except
that it was twisted around, so that instead of hurting, it was pure
sexual pleasure. His dick strained against his jeans, and he longed to
let it out, but he knew Alex would not approve. Not yet.

Mike released his nipples and walked around so that they were facing
each other.

"Mike?" Gabe gasped. He blinked, and Mike knew that he must look so
completely different than when Gabe had first met him, so he nodded.
"What happened to you?"

Mike wanted to tell him, suddenly. He wanted to describe the whole
thing, the pleasure, the power that coursed thropugh his veins. He
wanted Gabe to see what had become of him, to perform. But he also knew
that that was not his role tonight. Gabe was the sacrifice, the
innocent. He could not know what was going to happen. So Mike was
silent.

Just outside of the light was a whip. Mike picked it up, enjoying how
comfortable it felt in his hand. He cracked it a few times, for dramatic
effect. He tried to imagine what he looked like, a muscle man, his arms
bunching and flexing, like pythons were just beneath the skin. All he
could do was look at Gabe's fear-filled eyes to know how impressive he
looked.

Suddenly, the whip lashed out at Mike, leaving a bright red wound
against his pale chest.

Mike threw his head back and roared. It was unbelievable! He laughed as
he felt pleasure course through his body, filling every cell. He felt
the tingling increase in fervor, reaching an almost frantic pace. He
felt a sudden stretching in his skin, and when he held his arms out in
front of him, looked down at his chest, he could see that everything was
expanding. He could actually -see- his muscles growing!

The whip cracked again, another lash-mark appeared on Gabe's chest. Mike
felt the power double. He flexed, his arms growing ever second. He could
feel power and strength fill his legs, his abs, his back. He felt like
if his back grew any wider, he would be able to glide, except that he
felt the weight pull at him. Gravity seemed a strange sort of ally,
pulling him against the ground, but at the same time, enhancing the feel
of his own strength.

Dimly, as if from a distance, he heard Gabe ask "What happened to you?"
He was crying. From pain, or from fear, Mike could not guess. He felt a
touch of disdain, but more he felt a sudden sense of a different sort of
power. Beyond the physical, he knew that he had the power of fear over
Gabe.

He was barely aware of Alex as the tall man stepped from the darkness.
Instead, he drew his arm back for another strike. Pleasure flooded him
as the whip connected, and he barely paid attention to Alex as he
explained.

"He's signed a deal, Gabriel." Alex's voice was calm, but a smile
touched his words. "He will become my servant, all-powerful. But first
he must sacrifice. He kill you, my angel Gabriel. Then his
transformation will be complete, the deal will be finished, and he will
be mine."

"Who are yo-agh!" Pleasure filled Mike again. His jeans felt too tight,
and he took a moment to unfasten the buttons, his dick springing out. It
was well over a foot long now, as wide as a beer can. He stroked his
quickly with his left hand, and as he drew back his right arm for
another strike, it throbbed in pleasure, seeming to get even harder,
bigger, thicker.

"Surely you don't need an answer, Gabriel. Haven't you guessed already?
I am the First Angel, the mightiest, the proudest."

Mike felt his jeans rip along their seams. He set the whip aside and
stepped closer to gabe. He reached out and cupped Gabe's cock and balls
in one hand.

"I am the Lord of my domain," Alex said. "And I will be the Lord of this
one!"

Mike squeezed. Gabe cried out, his voice loud and harsh. Pain contorted
his face as pleasure filled Mike's. This was right. This was what he was
meant to do. This felt good, so goo-

Laughter, the laughter of an innocent child suddenly mixed with Gabe's
cry. Mike's eyes opened wide, and he thought he saw a flash of golden
hair in the darkness behind Gabe's body. His grip on Gabe's balls fell
away, and Gabe's scream turned into sobs.

Mike felt all the pleasure bleed away from him, and in its place he felt
a sudden and profound emptiness. All the voices and feelings that he had
suppressed came back with a flood, a torrent trying to fill the void,
but leaving only a greater emptiness.

"Gabriel...." He whispered, and he wrapped his huge arms around the man,
pressing his face into Gabe's shuddering chest, feeling his own tear
pour down his face. He could not hear Alex's scream of frustration, and
barely even felt the man's touch as he tried to pull him away. Mike just
held on, crying for everything he had lost.

"You aren't alone," a child's voice, -the- Child's voice whispered in
his ear. "Gabe is still with you."

"Begone, Sprite!" Alex shouted. Mike turned and looked at the man,
seeing for the first time the grotesqueness of his features. Fire burned
in the man's eyes, rage twisted his once-handsome face into a demon's
mask.

"No," the Child answered calmly. "He has refused you. Go back to your
prison, Lord Angel, the First, the Mightiest, the Proudest. You will not
own this world today."

With a cry of rage so pure that Mike felt his legs turn to jelly, Alex
vanished. Mike turned back to Gabe's body, holding on. The shackles came
loose, and Gabe fell into Mike's huge chest, and the two held on to each
other, crying, pained, but free.

***

Gabe slept while Mike watched. The Child had not left, but as it spoke,
Mike knew he would leave soon.

"You will not be bothered again, Michael." Mike only nodded. "Gabe will
awaken, and he will not remember what happened. Your memories, too, will
fade. But you two will be together, until death."

"What about this?" Mike asked. He held up his arms, their mass
unchanged. His chest was still heavy with muscle, his weight seemed more
burdensome than ever before.

"Some things can not be changed, once done." the Child said. "But I can
help you in some other way."

From out of nowhere, the Child produced a vial of silver, shimmering
liquid. "Drink half of this yourself, and give the rest to Gabriel. It
will purify you, and it will give Gabriel the muscle that you have. Then
you two will be more alike, and maybe this will bridge the chasm that
you helped create."

The Child seemed to fade, and Mike looked at his new lover. his eyes
glistened with tears, but he knew, deep inside, that everything would be
fine from now on. . .


The End


-- Marc Godin aka MagusX ac118@chebucto.ns.ca



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