Brandon Twice
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The Flexington Thanksgiving Day Parade
🕑 Added 2019-11-30 01:21:34 +0000 UTC[muscle growth, inflation]
Craig Golias hadn’t questioned the offer to be Grand Martial of the Flexington Thanksgiving Parade when he first heard about it. The invitation came with a check for $500,000. His mind was made up immediately: “I’ll be there, brah!” he told the Mayor of Flexington immediately. His plane ticket showed up the next day. Craig wondered how a little town he’d never heard of could be so wealthy to pull this off. But with all those zeroes on the line, he didn’t think too much about it.
The first thing Craig noticed about Flexington was that he didn’t see a single woman. The next was that all the men there were in decent shape: thickly built with muscles. Some were built like competitive bodybuilders--and with so many in the same town, Craig had to wonder what was in the damned water around there--but others had builds like football players with hairy muscles, firm bellies and thick beards. Some were holding hands. No big deal. Craig was cool with gay guys.
“Where’s the gym around here?” Craig asked a 5’4” guy who looked nearly as wide as he was tall. The guy wore a stringer tank and short shorts and was built like a real roidpig. Craig could practically smell the juice coming out of his pores. My kinda guy, Craig thought as he squared up his own freakish body.
“Which one?” the guy said with a chuckle.
“I gotta go meet the Mayor,” Craig explained, “then I gotta lead your Thanksgiving day parade. Where should I go to lift after?”
The little guy shrugged shoulders that seemed to swallow his little head. “Pick a place. The Mayor’s office in in CrunchTech, so maybe try there.”
The Mayor’s office is inside a gym? Craig thought. This little town seemed weird as hell, but it also seemed like the town of Craig’s dreams.
The Mayor’s assistant, a guy named Tony, met Craig at the door to the gym. Tony’s tailored suit hugged his muscular body, but had no sleeves. Craig loved the look but couldn’t believe it. I gotta find out where this guy shops! Craig thought.
“The Mayor will see you now,” Tony said, giving Craig’s big arm a slap. “Just a heads up, the Mayor is… unique. And intimidating.”
“Yeah, I am too!” Craig said, flexing his gigantic upper body. He adjusted his tank top and winked, then headed in to meet the Mayor.
For the first time ever, Craig was stunned speechless when he entered the Mayor’s office. There was no desk in sight, but a power rack was on one side of the room with a deadlifting platform at the other. The Mayor was at the platform, chalking his hands to grab a bar loaded with 765 pounds. Craig’s eyes would have gone wide at the amount of weight on that bar if it hadn’t been for the Mayor’s shocking appearance.
This guy was huge--HUGE--bigger than Craig was, in fact, and ripped to shreds from head to toe. What was more shocking than his body was the fact that his face was painted white, with red makeup around his mouth to give him a wild, exaggerated looking smile. He wore a shaggy red wig under a top hat. He had suspenders but no shirt, and the white makeup went down his mammoth, veiny torso. His dress pants looked expensive, and also big enough to fit two average-sized men in each leg.
Holy fuck, Craig thought. The Mayor is a juicemonkey CLOWN! The guy looked like he had a needle in his ass 24-7. This whole town was like a steroid Wonderland. His eyes went wide as the Mayor grabbed the bar and deadlifted it 10 times, growling aggressively with each rep. Then he threw it to the ground and hopped off the platform.
“Hey there, Mr. Golias,” he said. The painted-on smile made his regular speech seem maniacal. “Glad you took us up on the offer.”
Craig was still overwhelmed, both by the Mayor’s enormous physique and the fact that he had a clown makeup and wig on. “Uh, yeah, thanks. So what do I have to do?”
“Just wave a baton, and march along with some of my employees. You can handle that, right?” The Mayor cricked his thick neck to the side with a loud crack. Craig’s mouth went dry, so he just nodded. “Good,” the Mayor said. “Just a warning, my employees are all… diminutive. Only in height, of course, they’re absolute powerhouses, each one of them. But don’t use the ‘M’ word, please. That’s all I ask.”
Craig’s eyes squinted. “Oh, ‘midget?’ “ he said. He caught a backhand against his face that made him see stars. Craig keeled over. His first impulse was to fight, then he remembered: musclebound clown, bigger than he was. Maybe he would just watch his mouth.
“Lesson learned?” asked the mayor. Craig nodded quietly. “Good. They’ll be here shortly to take you to the parade. It will be starting shortly.”
Jesus, Craig thought. That soon? Sure enough the door opened behind him and two men, no taller than 3’, but as powerfully built (proportionately) as the Mayor (and also made up like clowns, identical to the man they worked for) came in and grabbed Craig’s hands, leading him out.
“I look forward to seeing you in the parade,” the Mayor sneered.
“Thanks,” Craig said as he turned. Then felt a sharp prick in his ass. He flinched away and saw one of the little musclebound clowns with a syringe plunged into his ass. He jerked it away with a crazy smile on his face.
“Just to add a little bulk,” the Mayor said. “Consider it a gift. Not like you need it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Craig said, rubbing his ass. If he got an abscess, he was suing the shit out of that asshole. But a little extra gear never hurt.
At the start of the parade, Tony handed Craig a tophat, just like the Mayor’s and his little employees, and a large baton. “You’re looking a little extra beefy!” Tony said, slapping Craig hard on his protruding pec shelf. “They gave you a little of their juice, didn’t they?” he said, gesturing at the little employees. About twelve of them, identically built with identical outfits and clown makeup, stood around Craig, all 3’ tall, all built like they had Tren for blood.
“Yeah,” Craig said. He looked up at his tophat, then down at the others around him. “Uh, I’m not gonna get short like they are, am I?” he asked.
Tony laughed. “Have a good time!”
Then the parade started. Craig couldn’t believe it: not a single woman in town. He had never thought it was possible, but Flexington seemed to be a town of only muscular men, and all of them seemed gay. “Oh,” he said aloud when it dawned on him. “FLEXington!” He chuckled as the lightbulb went off.
He marched his massive body down the streets of Flexington to the cheers of the built citizens of this weird little town. He worked his baton, threw up some massive biceps and bounced his pecs for the men who cheered and hooted and hollered at him. Meanwhile the little muscular clowns around him carried banners and played trumpets. Ignoring all of the creepy, dreamlike details, it seemed like an old-fashioned old-timey parade.
And Tony was right: whatever he got shot in the ass with was definitely adding some size to Craig. His lats felt fuller, making his arms stand a little further out from his body. He felt his quads widening. Was this shit for real? His dick actually got hard at the idea that he was bloating up from that one shot. Fuck, I gotta be approaching 400 pounds by now! He said as he felt mass pouring onto his frame, his body widening. He expected to feel weighed down by all this size but strangely he felt light, his feet coming up higher with every marching step.
Halfway through the parade he realized that if he grew any more, he was going to pop right ouf of his clothes, so he reached down to pull up his tanktop. For some reason he couldn’t put his heels down. He felt weird, like something was pulling him up. He tried to take a step but his foot wouldn’t come down--like invisible strings were drawing it up.
“What the fuck?” he said aloud as he suddenly realized he was floating about six inches off the ground. He looked around in a panic as he suddenly had no contact with the ground. He fluttered his massive arms and legs, trying to get back down, but he only wobbled around uselessly. “Get me down!” he yelled at the little clowns who all looked up at him with their wide, painted-on smiles.
His body felt full as hell now--bigger than he’d ever been--but he was starting to float higher and higher. The little clowns each started pulling out ropes, lassoing his hands and feet. With a loud pop, his expanding torso busted through his shirt. He looked down at the crowds. Rather than reacting with shock, they were cheering even harder now that his inflating torso was now exposed for them to enjoy.
Then--POP--went his shorts, and he was totally nude. He was still getting bigger, and wider, but starting to float higher and higher. Even his face felt like it was swelling, and while he tried to yell for someone to help him, his cheeks were so plumped and full that his mouth felt smooshed shut. When he tried to say anything, all that came from his mouth were the squeaks of a balloon.
Craig was overwhelmed with shock when he realized he was so wide, his shoulders were brushing up against the buildings on either side of him. He looked down at the crowd below, saw the immense shadow his body cast, and realized with horror that he was now a gigantic parade float.
He saw banners in the crowd--”Fuck skinny, GET HUGE!” “NO SUCH THING AS TOO BIG!” “Keep Bulking Brah!”--and realized that the whole town knew this was going to happen to him. His own catchphrases were used to mock him now!
The little clowns below led his helplessly huge blimp of a body along the street as Craig looked down to see his naked groin exposed for all to see. Even though he was fifty times the size of any man now, his little dick still looked proportionately small, despite the fact that it was blown up with helium and dangling above their heads. The built men below shouted, “Needledick!” and, “Where’d your balls go?” as Craig just floated above, helpless to their jeers.
The guys below seemed turned on by his size, nudity, and especially his helplessness. They were making out wildly, some of the guys jacking themselves off, couples here and there fucking wildly. Craig floated past some cops, expecting them to do something about it, but the beefy brick-shithouses in uniform were actually jacking themselves off as well.
Craig whimpered--more of a loud squeak of air--when a gust sent him into a nearby building. He expected to be harmed, but his body had changed. He was now a soft, squishy balloon, so neither he nor the building were damaged. (He realized, with horror, what an errant needle might do to him.) Then another gust blew hard and he went up higher than before.
Below him, he saw the little bodybuilder clowns yanked off the ground by the force of the sudden gust. Some of them tumbled off their ropes and hit the ground, while others ran to get control of the windblown blimp of a man overhead.
Craig could do nothing as he saw the muscleclowns lose control of their ropes, and another gust sent him spinning head over heels. He ended up facing up, the crowds below getting a beautiful view of his massive, muscular ass as he floated higher and higher, disappearing into the blue sky which was all he could see.
Despite losing their main attraction, the Flexington Thanksgiving Parade was a wild success. And since they wouldn’t be signing over that check after all, thought the mayor as he watched Craig shrink into a smaller and smaller tan dot in the blue sky before finally disappearing altogether, they could afford to hire a bigger star next year. He made a note to contact Alexey Lesukov.
