Brandon Twice
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More Than Antoine Could Handle Pt. 4--"Are You Even Huge Bro?"
🕑 Added 2020-06-17 04:34:28 +0000 UTCRead Part 1 here
Read Part 2 here
Read Part 3 here
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--Yo Antoine? You awake?
--Yeah, awake with my eyes closed and snoring.
--Sorry bro. Can’t sleep. So fucking hungry!
--Deal. You wanna be a bodybuilder, you gotta sacrifice.
--What’s the point? I could just snap my fingers and be as lean as I wanted.
--For real, you talk about using your powers again, I’m out. You want me to coach, you do it the right way. The real way. As real as you can after you, y’know… stole my muscles and all…
--I’m horny as shit too. Beat off like 12 times today. All this testosterone. You this horny too? Having all these muscles make you wanna fuck?
--I’m going to back to sleep. You should too.
--By the way, don’t cum in my sheets.
--I wash ‘em, bro.
--Ugh! You owe me new sheets, bro. G’night!
--You sure you don’t wanna help me work on posing?
--GOOD. NIGHT.
***
Three weeks after little Antoine agreed to train Chance to compete as a bodybuilder--with Antoine’s stolen muscles--this back-and-forth began happening on a nightly basis. It had happened so regularly that Antoine started waking up around 3 AM every night, ready for the big bodybuilder’s thick hands shaking his scrawny body awake.
The first night it didn’t happen, Antoine peered around, wondering why Chance was suddenly getting a good night’s sleep. He looked up from the pile of pillows on the floor he had resigned to accepting as his bed. Reggie was passed out in front of the TV, the Playstation controller still in his hands, a 40 ounce bottle of malt liquor tilted over next to him. Antoine frowned at the acrid puddle that was stinking up the room. Toots was also passed out face down on the couch, which worried the shrunken pro-bodybuilder: Toots had a habit of pissing the bed. Once, Antoine got tough and demanded Toots buy him new furniture, and the little punk--who stood a good head taller than Antoine now--grabbed the little Canadian by the back of his drawers and yanked him up off the floor, giving him a literal wedgie.
Mouthing off at those two resulted in instant bullying, high school style; Reggie crouching behind Antoine while Toots shoved him, or Toots holding him down while Reggie farted into his face. But for some reason, Chance tolerated a little mouthiness from Antoine--and when he witnessed Reggie and Toots pushing Antoine around, would summarily squash them flat with one giant slap. “I can’t kick them out,” Chance bleated when Antoine demanded it. “They’re my boys,” he said.
“Then no coach,” little Antoine had replied, crossing his bony arms and struggling to look defiant.
Chance had winced, like he really didn’t want to do it, then snatched Antoine by the neck and hoisted him effortlessly into the air. “Let’s not forget who’s in charge, little man.” He flexed his 26 inch arm. “You want this muscle back? You’re gonna do what your told.”
Which was why Antoine was trying to tread lightly as he inspected the house for Chance’s whereabouts. The skinny little guy quietly did a lap around the house, looking for the enormous man who had stolen his room. He wasn’t in the kitchen watching old bodybuilding videos and fantasizing about ice cream like usual. He wasn’t in the backyard doing one-handed pushups either. Antoine quietly climbed the stairs, wondering if the size thief had finally been able to get a good night’s sleep.
The door to Antoine’s room--taken over by Chance, of course--was open a crack. Antoine peered in quietly, then tiptoed in. The room stunk of Chance’s huge, sweaty body and several dozen still-drying loads.
Antoine waited a beat, then padded through his room like he was trespassing--in his own room!--until he got to the bathroom. He gently elbowed the door--nobody there.
Chance was gone.
Had he skipped town, Antoine wondered? Took off with Antoine’s size and left him tiny and helpless against these two psychotic burnouts? Worse than that, Antoine knew, was the one nightmare that kept him up at night (when he allowed himself to think about it): what if Chance had gone out to find more guys’ muscles to steal?
Chance had mentioned Antoine’s training partner Regan before. What if Chance came home with a tiny Regan slung over one shoulder, maybe a tiny Brad Rowe over the other, and donated all of the pilfered size to the two chumps passed out in Antoine’s living room? He shivered at the idea that those two assholes would get some real size, suddenly able to throw around full-sized men with ease.
But maybe Chance was just out fucking, Antoine thought as he closed his bedroom door behind him, grateful to be out of the stink. Chance was just super horny, and Tammy, from across the street, was practically begging for his dick every second.
That’s where he is, Chance told himself. Or maybe out trying to score a three-way. No big deal.
Falling asleep to the sound of Reggie’s snoring and Toots’ sleep-talking was no easy feet, especially with his fears running wild, but despite his small stature, he was Antoine-fucking-Vaillant. There was nothing he couldn’t do if he put his mind to it.
***
Antoine’s whole body ached. He shivered, too; for some reason, most of him was off his pile of pillows. The floor was chilly against his bare skin.
He rolled over and stretched and heard a dozen loud rips and felt the chilly air against his bare back and chest. He rubbed his eyes--why did his hands feel different?--and rolled over, fumbling for the blanket that must have fallen off him while he slept.
The arm reaching out was--HUGE. Antoine flexed it in amazement. It was his arm, back with all the muscle it had before Chance shrank him down to pipsqueak size.
The big man looked down at himself and found himself speechless: HE WAS BIG AGAIN! He had hulked right out of the baggy pajamas he was wearing, covered in tatters except around the groin area (not unlike the Hulk).
He had had this dream before, of course, but he tested it with a pinch. Then he rose to his full height, taking a moment to look down on the room from his full 6 feet and flex his 300 pounds of muscle before turning to the sleeping little shits ruining his living room.
He grabbed Toots by his underwear and lifted him easily off the floor. The passed out punk went from nearly comatose to crying out in pain in an instant, clearly baffled as to why and how he was being hoisted around by his drawers.
“You like wedgies, you little shit?” Antoine growled in his deep voice. He couldn’t stop laughing; he didn’t remember ever being this happy! He spun around like he was throwing a discuss, launching Toots into a wall. A table and a framed photo smashed; Antoine didn’t care.
Next, Antoine dropped his massive, muscular ass right on Reggie’s snoring face, letting out a horrendous fart that nearly shook the room. “You fucking stink you little twerp!” Antoine chuckled. Reggie tried to get free but Antoine relaxed his quads, letting more of his 3-bills of dense mass sink down on him. “I should just sit down and squash you once and for all, you little bitch!” Antoine barked. But he stood up.
Reggie scurried away, gasping for breath. Toots wheezed as he grabbed his chest. Antoine hit a double biceps pose to scare them--and because it felt amazing to wield all that bulk again--and took a step toward his two tormentors.
“Chance!” Reggie screamed.
Antoine chuckled. “Figure it out, numbnuts!” he said, hitting a vicious most muscular pose. The big guy was so pumped, veins covered him from head to his pecs. “Whatever he did got reversed! Your big buddy is gone now!”
Antoine grabbed one in each of his big hands and lifted them off the ground. They were so damned small! He couldn’t believe these two tiny, underfed guys had been the source of so much misery for the past couple months. He stomped to the door and tossed them aside just to open it. Then he hurled Toots to the sidewalk. Reggie didn’t need to be thrown; he ran out on his own.
Down the street, Antoine’s neighbor, Eddie, gazed from his lawn at the sight. He chuckled as he saw the two hoodlums running at full speed without any shoes on.
Antoine slammed the door and stomped up the stairs. “And now that those two shits are gone,” he said, staring down at his muscle and flexing it just to bask in his regained power, “time for their little leader to get the ass-kicking of a lifetime!” He was so excited to have his long legs back. He felt like he was crossing each room at super speed. “Oh Chance, you better hope you didn’t end up coming home last night, buddy, or you are fu--”
Antoine threw open the door and froze at the wall of muscle that confronted him from the other side. Antoine, at his full-size, was still a good five inches shorter than the titan he was staring at, and at least sixty pounds. He wore Antoine’s robe, but it look absurdly small on him now.
“C’mon, man,” Chance said in an even deeper voice. He shook his head. “What were you coming up here to do? Kick my ass?” He scratched his mammoth pec and flexed the other as he took a step toward Antoine, who backed away without even realizing it.
“How the… how are you…” Antoine couldn’t puzzle out how Chance seemed even bigger, but threw a punch anyway. Chance caught it easily and snickered, squeezing the fist in his even bigger palm.
“I honestly can’t tell you how much this hurts me,” Chance said as he took a step forward, easily forcing Antoine back. “After all we’ve been through--and I give you your body back!--you still act like I’m some chump. I thought we had a thing going, man.” Chance shoved, sending Antoine sailing.
From the ground, Antoine started to rise. “I don’t… how are you bigger if I’m big too?” he asked.
“Not even, ‘I’m sorry’?” Chance said, shaking his head. “Everyone says you’re such a good guy, Antoine, but you’re always been a real shit to me.” He reached down and helped Antoine to his feet. “For the record, while you slept I gave you back all the size I stole. Then I went out and hit a couple 24 hour gyms…”
Antoine went white as he imagined Regan trying to cope with being scrawny in an oversized world, but Chance seemed to guess what he was thinking. “I didn’t steal it all from one guy, either. I took a little at a time, so about twenty guys are about ten pounds lighter. They’ll think they got sick or something, flu going around.”
Antoine shook his head, his brain starting to short-circuit. “Why?” he was all he could manage.
“Because I knew you’d be pissed if I stole it all from one dude,” he said, shrugging shoulders that would make Craig Golias weep with envy.
“No, why do this at all?” Antoine said. “Why are you so fucking desperate to be this big?”
Chance looked down at himself, gave Antoine a light slap on his bare pec. “Why are you?”
“I’ve been working at this for years,” Antoine said, “since I was a teenager. You just walk up and take it all… why? To be a bodybuilder? You just have the size, you don’t have the work-ethic or the determination…”
“FUCK THAT!” Chance roared with such intensity that even big Antoine jumped. “You’ve seen how I’ve been working with you these past few weeks! I’ve done everything you said, gave 150% at the gym, ate exactly what you told me to… and my posing’s getting good, too! See, I don’t have the genetics and I didn’t start when I was young--I can’t change that--but I can be every bit of a bodybuilder as anyone else, bro! C’mon!”
Antoine rolled his eyes. “Okay, dude. Whatever.” He turned and started to walk away. “I’m gonna go have breakfast. Now that I’m big again I’m fucking starving--all these muscles need some sustenance and I’ve finally got a belly that can hold them again.”
Chance sneered bitterly as Antoine turned his back on him. “Oh yeah? Well, maybe you’re so excited to be big again that you missed the one part of you that didn’t grow back.”
Antoine paused. He knew something felt off, but hadn’t had a free moment to suss it out. He almost knew what it was before Chance said it.
“You’re still a teeny-tiny ant where it counts, bitch,” Chance taunted.
Antoine paused and looked down at the shredded pants. He pulled the waistband out to examine the contents and was shocked to see what was inside: what looked like just the head of a dick above two tiny little shriveled berries. It was the same dick Antoine had gotten used to while he was small, but it looked laughable on his 300 pound frame.
“You son of a bitch,” Antoine said, turning around.
“Want to try punching me again, mouse-dick?” Chance said, flexing his titanic body. “Bring it, cockless!”
“I don’t even want to fight,” Antoine said. “You’re fucking pathetic. What’s the point of this? You think we’re friends or something but you still do this to me?” He gestured at the nearly empty crotch of what was left of his pants. “In what world does any of this make any sense?”
“I knew you might be pissed,” Chance said, “but… I wanted to guarantee you’d still be my coach. And my training partner! Imagine you and me just killing it in the gym! Imagine how many people would take pics! They’d go crazy!”
Antoine didn’t budge.
“Come on man,” Chance said, putting a hand on Antoine’s shoulder and gently squeezing. “I mean, even though you’re huge again, I’m still the bigger man, everywhere too… especially downstairs, bro, right? Aren’t you feeling that reptile brain? That tribal instinct? Submit to the manlier guy?” The shoulder squeeze turned to a light massage. Antoine jerked out of the giant’s grip.
“Well, anyway… if you ever want your dick back, you’re going to cooperate.”
Antoine threw up his hands. “Nope, Uh-uh. I’m done. You do whatever you want to, freak, but I’m done playing games with you.”
Chance looked truly wounded. “Are you serious? I mean, man, hasn’t any of the time we spent together meant anything?”
“You’re fucked up,” Antoine said as he headed to the stairs. “Get therapy. And get out of my house. You’re not welcome here anymore. Keep my dick. I’m still a fucking stud everywhere else.”
Chance exhaled deeply. “Fucking want to play hardball, do you big man? I have to admit, I went easy on you all this time because I thought we were becoming buddies, but I messed up. I let you think you had any power in this situation. So time for me to rectify that mistake.”
Chance curled his hand into a gun and pointed it at Antoine. “Last chance to fall in line.”
“What are you going to do?” Antoine asked, taking a step toward the finger-gun boldly, pressing his chest against it. “Steal my size again?”
“Bang,” Chance said.
Antoine felt a moment’s discomfort, then his whole body was cold. All at once, his whole frame had surged with size until he was a massive mound of muscle, almost spherical. He wobbled on legs so thick his feet were ten feet apart, wiggling arms so packed with muscle they stood out straight from his body.
Not that he could see any of it anymore. His pecs and traps had blown up so much they swallowed up his head. He couldn’t turn his neck--which was wider than his head--at all. In fact moving any part of his body was just about impossible now as all his grotesquely overgrown muscles forced each other apart, battling for space.
When he felt himself falling backward he tried to do anything to stop himself, but all the massive muscle blimp could do was wiggle his fat fingers and moan through cheeks so hypermuscular he couldn’t even open his mouth. He hit the ground HARD--and for a moment, he was at least relieved that he hadn’t crashed through the floor to the room below.
Antoine felt like an overturned turtle as he struggled like that, succeeding in nothing more than squirming. His eyes searched his field of vision for Chance, worried that the freak had abandoned him here like this, but then the college-aged punk’s face lowered toward his.
Chance was small again, the same scrawny dimensions he’d had when Antoine had first tried to get him to turn his music down.
“Now now, big man,” Chance said in a calm voice, stroking Antoine’s muscle-packed face as he whimpered. “Aw, don’t cry, big guy. You’re the one who demanded I crack the whip. Next time, you’re going to be a little more cooperative, right? But for a little while, you’re going to feel what it’s like to be the biggest man in the world. It’s what you wanted, right?”
Antoine could only moan in response.
Chance started giggling. “Bro, for real? You should see how much space there is under the small of your back. Your lats and your glutes are so fucking huge that I could easily army crawl in the amount of open space down here.” He reached up and massaged a pec that was the size of the hood of a car. Antoine just moaned and huffed at the contact. “You said you were hungry, hunh? Well, let’s get you fed.”
Antoine panicked when Chance left him--even being with that psycho was better than being left alone in this state--but felt mild relief when Chance came back. “Here comes the airplane!” Chance said with a spoon full of applesauce, dragging loop-the-loops and zig-zags in the air before slipping the spoon between the tightly pursed lips.
“And just in case you’re curious--because I know you can’t see--your cock is still tiny.”
