Brandon Twice
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More Than Antoine Could Handle [re-boot] Part 5
🕑 Added 2022-07-19 01:30:12 +0000 UTCAntoine walked away from the bar with a rum and coke in each hand. He bristled at how much effort it had taken to get the bartender’s attention at all. Now, the much taller crowd was elbowing him and jostling him around without even acknowledging him. “Hey, watch out–” he started as he got shoved, hard, spilling some of his drinks down his shirt. He spun around, trying to find the culprit, but all he saw were stomachs and chests, the men all towering over him. Someone reached down and patted him on the head.
“Love you little pocket gays,” the guy said. Antoine’s face burned with humiliation. This wasn’t his first time at a gay bar at all. However, the last few times had been VERY different, though he could guess why.
When he finally got back to Toots, the muscled man was leaning over the blonde prettyboy he was struggling to hit on, one arm against the wall while he pawed at his own pec with one hands. Antoine rolled his eyes as he handed the drinks up to Toots and his–friend? Target?
Toots didn’t even turn as he snatched the drink from Antoine’s hand. “Yeah, so anyway, I’m pretty much about gym gym gym, you know? Getting that gym life. I mean, you can tell, right? Check out these biceps?” Before they’d entered, Toots had insisted on ripping the sleeves of his shirt and the denim jacket he wore over them. Now he looked like a bully in an 80s movie.
“Yeah,” said the blonde, regarding the drink Toots handed him with disdain for a moment before turning away. “Hey, listen, I’m going to the bathroom,” the blonde said as he gazed at his phone. “Thanks for the drink though.”
Toots nodded as the blonde left. He bounced his head to the thrumming house music and strutted around the bar table, surveying the crowd with wide eyes. “This is fucking awesome!” he said, looking at his body in the mirrored ceiling. It was the hundredth time he’d checked himself out since he’d taken Antoine out and he still regarded his well-built body with the same excitement as when Chance had first blessed him with the muscles.
Toots’ phone lit up on the table as Antoine sat there, glancing around the packed club. The day had been ridiculous, babysitting Reggie and Toots as the two took him to two different gyms (where they promptly got thrown out for picking fights with other members). Then the two had split up, with Reggie going to a straight bar while Toots took Antoine with him.
“How’s the runt doing? You keeping him in line?” read the text on Toots’ phone. Toots had sauntered forward toward a pair of cute young men, pulling his shirt up and bouncing his pecs at them. They rolled their eyes at him. Antoine reached forward and grabbed the phone.
“Runt is fine,” he texted back. “I struck out so I’m taking him home. Go get some pussy! Have fun!”
The goal was to keep Reggie out of the picture as long as possible. Toots was the dumb one, more easily manipulated, plus he had the weakpoint of reveling in his repressed sexuality. His guard was down. Antoine had no idea what his plan moving forward was, but the last thing he wanted was his two captors, now empowered with Regan Grimes’ stolen muscles split between them, to bully him together. At the very least, he would get a break.
Toots swaggered back to the table and slammed down his empty glass. He grabbed the other one, slugging that back as well.
“You don’t want to get wasted,” Antoine said. “Nobody likes the drunk musclehead,” he informed. (Plus, the drunker Toots got, the more likely Antoine was to get bullied by his much bigger tormentor.)
Toots nodded. ‘Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, fuck. You must know what it’s like to have muscles.”
Antoine shrugged. “I’ve been big since I was a teenager,” he said.
“EXACTLY!” Toots said, grabbing Antoine by the shoulders and shaking him around. “Look at me! I’m built like an underwear model! I’m jacked as fuck right now, and I even got a big cock out of the deal too!” He jostled the packed groin of his jeans. Antoine knew how well hung Regan had been; he could only imagine how that translated to Toots’ size boon. “Why the fuck aren’t these guys into me?”
Antoine shrugged. He looked around. “So, the thing is,” he explained, “there are people here jealous that you’re built. That’s just a given.”
Toots, armed with this information, straightened up. He squared his broad shoulders, pumped his thick arms, and smiled. “Fuck yeah they’re jealous, aren’t they?”
“And there’s guys who are going to be into you right off the bat because of your body,” Antoine continued, “but they’re prepared for you to be a narcissistic douchebag. They just assume it when they see a guy who’s built, y’know?”
Toots leaned in. “Yeah, keep going, keep going. How do I get one of these guys to blow me?”
“To be honest? You could probably score that easily if that’s all you’re looking for,” Antoine said, imagining the sweet freedom of having Toots occupied in a bathroom stall for about twenty minutes. “You want more than that, you have to entice them with your personality. Be fun. Make them feel like you’re gonna be a good time in the sack.”
Toots sneered. “Y’know, you don’t know how to attract dudes,” Toots said. “You only hit on chicks in the past.” Toots stripped off his jack and his shirt, then undid his belt. “Look, what makes you the expert on having muscles, anyway? You were sleeping ALONE when we first ran into you–and, quick reminder, you lost those muscles pretty easily, too!” After stripping down to his jockstrap (Antoine’s jockstrap, he recognize) he strutted into the crowd of people, arms in the air, flexing his abs and bouncing his pecs as he sauntered away.
“The fuck are you guys?” came the text from Chance’s phone. “Did you leave Reggie? You have Ant with you?” Antoine looked down to see that Chance had called three times. They must not have heard the ringing in the loud club.
“Reggie’s gone nuts since you made us big,” Antoine began tapping out. “He’s being a real jerk, talking shit about you!” That should stir up some dissension. Then, an idea occurred to Antoine. “The runt is with me. I’m a little worried. I think he knows why you can steal muscle and stuff.”
He glanced around the bar, searching for Toots, as the reply ellipsis bounced. “Well he won’t find where I hid the stone, so don’t worry about that.” Antoine absorbed this new info. He noticed, in the center of the mass of gyrating shirtless bodies, was Toots, who was making out with a massively built powerlifter.
“Get your ass back to the house, or else I’m gonna shrink you smaller than the runt!” Chance replied. Antoine quickly erased all of his other correspondence, laving only Chance’s demand that they return, and set the phone back on the bar as Toots returned.
“Yo, Ant!” Toots said, his arm draped around a wide, beefy brute of a man. “This is John. He’s coming to our place.”
“The fuck is this?” John said, pointing at Antoine with a sausage-thick finger. “This little twinky is what–your boyfriend?”
Toots laughed. “Nah, he’s my driver. Aren’t you, Ant? Hey, John and I need a place to fuck. Time to drive, Ant.”
John was unphased by Toots’ lack of discretion. Like Toots, he, too, wore only a jockstrap, his muscled gut round and solid below thick pecs and massive arms. His round, wide body exuded power as he waddled around. Antoine couldn’t help but notice the size of his jock-clad package; the man was huge all over.
Antoine hopped off the bench, handing Toots his phone. “You got some texts,” Antoine pointed out. The two bigger man headed for the door as Antoine collected Toots’ discarded clothes. It was a struggle for Antoine, on his shorter legs, to keep up with him. Toots and John easily bulldozed through the crowd, but Antoine kept getting pushed around.
Outside, Toots tossed the keys to Antoine as the two bigger men got in the backseat. Without the crowd around them, Antoine could truly see John’s size. He wasn’t as tall as Toots but he outweighed him by at least sixty pounds. He had the massive hands and thick neck of a man who hoisted heavy weight every day of his life. Maybe, Antoine wondered, John could be powerful enough to overpower Chance.
“You got beer at your place?” John asked as they took off from the club.
“Hell yeah I do!” Toots said. Then he paused. “Oh, wait. Ant? We got beer at the house?”
Antoine shook his head. “No. Should we stop and get some?”
Toots lifted up John’s huge arm and buried his face in the powerlifter’s deep armpit. “Fuck,” he sighed as he pulled his face out. He checked his phone. “Yeah, Ant, stop at a convenience store. We gotta get Reggie on the way, too.”
“The fuck is Reggie?” John grunted.
“My roommate,” Toots said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Outside the QwikMart, Toots handed his wallet to Antoine. “Get us some beers, and a bottle of liquor… something good…”
Antoine shrugged. “Remember the trouble we had getting me into that bar?” he said. “I look WAY to young like this.” The bouncer at the gay bar had refused Antoine’s ID (which now looked like it belonged to an older brother or an uncle since Antoine’s facial features were much smaller and more delicate now). Toots had been able to talk the bouncer into letting Antoine in luckily, but there was no way Antoine could buy booze on his own.
“For fuck’s sake,” Toots said, staggering out of the car. Antoine handed over Toots’ shirt and pants and the well-built man dressed himself, leaning into the car to give John a deep kiss before finally pulling away and stumbling into the store.
With a few spare moments alone with John, Antoine knew he had to act.
“You’re big,” Antoine began.
“To you, everyone’s big,” John snapped back, swiping the screen of his phone as he sneered.
“You compete?”
“Yeah.”
“Bodybuilder?”
“Do I look like a fucking bodybuilder?” John said, patting his broad musclegut with a resounding thump. “I’m a strongman. But I used to be a bodybuilder, way back. I eat whatever the fuck I want to, now.”
“You ever hear of the bodybuilder named Antoine Vaillant?”
John nodded. “That smokin’ hot Canadian guy? Fuck yeah.”
“I’m him,” Antoine said.
John just chuckled, but Antoine handed back his license and several of his credit cards. John eyed the photo on the ID next to Antoine’s face skeptically.
“Bullshit,” he said, tossing the IDs back.
“Toots has a buddy,” Antoine explained hastily as he saw the clerk bagging up Toots’ purchases inside. “He’s got some stone that lets him steal people’s muscles. They stole mine, and my buddy Regan Grimes’, too. Toots isn’t really that big. He’s a skinny little guy, just like his buddies, but they’re all huge now and holding me and Regan hostage.”
John snorted. He shook his head. “Yeah right, little man. You’re a hostage? You seem pretty willing to do whatever Toots says.”
“I’m just cooperating in hopes they make me normal again someday,” Antoine said. “Who knows? Maybe they’re going to make you little next, too.”
Toots fumbled with the door handle, finally getting it open and collapsing into the car. Antoine froze, wondering if John would pass on his story. Luckily, Toots was too focused on sucking on John’s nipples, immediately occupying them both; Antoine’s story never came up.
Reggie was outside a bar, shirtless, when Antoine pulled up to pick him up. He had a swollen eye and a fat lip oozing blood. He got into the car, groaning as he held a hand over his wounds.
“Looks like your roommate got his ass kicked,” John said as Toots licked up and down his bloated off-season arms.
“Fuck you!” Reggie said, spinning around. “The fuck are you, asshole?” He threw a punch into the back seat but John caught it easily. John squeezed Reggie’s fist and the much smaller man winced. John easily shoved Reggie back into the front seat. Satisfied with his man’s performance, Toots got back to work on his tonguebath while John smugly enjoyed the worship.
Antoine tried to hide his satisfaction from his face as he drove. It felt good to see someone big enough to put these assholes in his place.
When they arrived back at his house, Antoine noticed Chance wasn’t back yet. He worried about Regan; what kind of tortures had he had to endure all day?
As they walked in, Reggie scurried for the living room couch. Toots popped open a champagne bottle as John surveyed the surroundings. “This your place?” John asked as he noticed the weight bench in the living room and the trophies on the mantle.
“It’s where we’re staying right now,” Toots said, slugging back some champagne. He offered some to John, but the bullish man just grabbed a bottle of beer and leaned in to inspect the trophies.
“When’s Chance getting home?” Reggie whined. As if in response, a car pulled up outside.
“Hey John, maybe we should go upstairs,” Toots suggested. “It’s about to get a little crowded down here and there’s a bedroom we can–”
“The fuck is this?” John said, lifting a trophy off the mantle. He leaned in close to inspect the inscription. He turned and noticed photos framed on the wall, of professional bodybuilder Antoine Vaillant.
Antoine clenched his little fists as he saw the scene play out. “C’mon, big man,” he thought, “figure it out…”
The front door flew open and Chance walked in. He looked even bigger than when he’d left, even more shredded, like a shrink-wrapped anatomy model with absurd proportions. Antoine worried he’d used his powers to steal even more muscle while leaving more of his fat on another innocent man. His sweatpants were skin-tight on his phenomenally massive quads. Antoine scanned the pockets for any contents.
“Jesus christ!” Reggie said. “Look at YOU!”
Regan scampered over to Antoine’s side.
“You okay?” Antoine asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Regan said. “We just worked on posing all day. The fuck is going on here?”
“Holy fuck,” John said, turning around. “The little guy wasn’t fucking around.”
“Who the FUCK is this guy?” Chance said, stomping forward.
“Who the FUCK are you?” John said, immediately clenching his fists and lunging forward. “You gonna shrink me too, bitch?” He lunged for Chance, shoving him so hard Chance’s freakishly dense 300 pound physique was airborne for a moment before he slammed down hard on his back.
Toots screeched in a tone hilariously shrill for a man of his muscular proportions. “John, NO! Don’t!”
Reggie was up now, lunging for John, but the bigger man cuffed Reggie right in his swollen eye, then shoved him back on the couch. Chance started to get up but John brought down an elbow on Chance’s face with a sickening thud.
“Search his pockets!” Antoine said to Regan, and the two went to work patting Chance down. Antoine found it–a lump in his left pocket–but the sweatpants were so tight he couldn’t work his fingers in to grab it.
“I don’t know what you fucking freaks are up to,” John said, “but stealing fucking muscles is where I draw the line!”
Chance thrust out a hand as if he were casting a magic spell. He flexed his fingers and for a moment nothing happened–but then John’s form “deflated” silently. All of his soft bulk vanished in a moment, leaving behind a shredded bodybuilder in contest-shape.
Antoine gasped as his own body suddenly blew up, swelling with John’s flab. In an instant Antoine went from scrawny, to roly-poly, then to obese, his pants and shirt barely containing his blubbery body. He stumbled around as his center of gravity shifted, then fell backwards on a huge, pudgy ass. He looked like a squashed-down sumo wrestler, his fat cheeks making his sad face look even more pathetic.
“The fuck… did you…”
“I bet you’re not as strong without all that mass,” Chance said, hopping to his feet. John threw another punch but Chance dodged it, then easily tossed John behind the couch.
“YOU are in trouble,” Chance said, pointing at Toots who’d begun to sob.
“I swear, I didn’t know he was going to do this!” Toots wailed. “The runt must have said something to him!”
Regan threw his arms around Antoine, who poked his own soft belly, then examined his plump fingers.
John was on his feet again, running for Chance, but with a snap of the now-bigger man’s fingers, the former strongman’s body deflated again. He collapsed to the ground, a tiny runt, equal in size to Regan (and Antoine, before his “embiggening”).
Reggie gasped as his own body blew up now. The difference in size between a 250 and 300 pound bodybuilder was staggering, especially on a 6’ man such as Reggie. He went from impressive to monstrous in a moment, exploding out of his clothes like the Hulk. He was second in size only to Chance now. “Enjoy that, Reggie. You’re like the only one still loyal to me.”
“As for you,” he said to Toots as John staggered to his feet, now a pathetic slip of a man with his feet tangled in a much-too-big jockstrap. “Don’t think for one minute I believe those texts you sent me about Reggie talking shit about me.”
“What texts?” Toots said, tears streaming down his face. “Honest, Chance, I never–”
“You want your little toy?” he said, pointing to John. He grabbed John by his pencil-neck and hoisted him in the air, shaking him roughly. “You’re lucky I don’t shrink you down and make him fuck you until you split in half!”
“Chance, I’m sorry, I was just trying to have some fun… I made a mistake… PLEASE!”
“Well, you have to be punished,” Chance said. “I have to take your toy away.” He tightened his grip on John, whose head turned purple as he struggled to breathe. “I’ve always wondered what happens when I drain someone dry…”
In a blink, John disappeared like vapor. Antoine, shocked that a man had literally just disappeared before his eyes, almost didn’t notice the gasp from Regan next to him.
Regan had gone from scrawny underfed runt, barely 90 pounds and just under five feet tall, to about 5’ 8” and 150 pounds. He was average in every way now.
“There,” Chance said. “Regan, you were great today, so that little bit of size left on John might make things a little easier for you.”
“You really think it’s better than him being small?” Reggie said, rolling his bowling-ball sized shoulders.
“He’s still too small to do anything,” Chance said. “You and I are fucking GODS now. And Toots, I bet that muscle seems pretty pathetic next to me and Reggie now?”
Toots, tears in his eyes, held up Johns’ still-warm jockstrap, sniffing it as he quietly whimpered.
“Regan, take Antoine to bed. I don’t want to see his fat little face anymore. Toots? You better get out of my sight too.”
Regan helped Antoine to his feet. As he walked, he couldn’t help the feeling of his whole body jiggling with every step. His soft, flabby thighs pushed his feet apart. Carrying so much weight was a burden. It reminded him of getting up over 300 pounds in the offseason, waddling around and getting winded just from walking, but now he was weak and squishy.
Regan sat him on his bed. “That was… really brave…” he said quietly.
“And stupid,” Antoine said. “That guy’s just… gone now, hunh?”
Regan nodded sadly. “What are we going to do?”
Antoine shook his head. “I guess… whatever Chance wants.”
