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Description Five-foot-nothing Colin dreams of getting bigger. Then he meets muscle-stud Charles’s dazzling brother Sky and all of his fantasies intensify, leading to his seeking out the secrets of height and muscle growth.

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Part 1

Have you ever had one of those days that was both the worst day of your life and the best? When you felt like you just wanted life to end, and then something miraculous happened and you realized life hadn’t even begun? When you sat down to eat a bowl of Vanilla ice cream and suddenly you realized it was Chocolate Chip? Okay, that last one might just be me, because I really like Chocolate Chip. But anyway… One of those days? Well, I have, and it started pretty simply, with me having one of my favorite dreams.

I was back in The Clearing behind the high school during the big fight. Guys were fighting all around me—big guys. Of course, to me, since I’m only five feet tall, just about everyone’s a big guy. And these guys were football players, so even among the big guys, they were big guys.

Charles, this kind-of-dorky senior, had just sent me out into the middle of this mini-war. There was this guy, a junior, who was a friend of his—and mine I guess. He was in trouble, and Charles sent me with something that would help him. And it had to be me because I was the only one small enough to dodge around the football players and get to him without getting run over. I’m just a freshman but this junior had helped me out a couple of times so I felt I owed him.

So, here I was—in the dream—weaving in and out of the battling football players, and they’re way bigger than they were in real life. I finally get to this guy and I pull out the syringe that Charles gave me to give him. Now, when this really happened, I didn’t know what it was, but in the dream I do.

Now this guy was already pretty big. In fact, he was bigger than most of the football players. But they had all ganged up on him and beat him almost unconscious. I was supposed to give him this shot. But when I get there, he doesn’t want it. “Colin,” he says, “don’t stick me with that thing.” So in the dream I say, “Okay, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” And then I give myself the shot.

Okay, this is where the dream gets really hot. I mean I’m definitely sporting wood in the dream, and not just in the dream—if you get what I’m saying.

Suddenly I start to grow—and I’m not just talking about the hard-on. I mean my whole body just starts getting bigger and stronger. I mean, in real life it was the guy who got the shot and grew massive, but in the dream it’s me. And at this point, I kind of know it’s a dream, but it’s so real I can actually feel the changes as they happen to me. And I’d almost swear the changes were actually happening to me as I lay there in my bed sweating and breathing hard.

Anyhow, my arms start growing these really big biceps, bulging and vein covered, and they feel hard and solid on my arms. I flex and I see them stress the cloth for a second before they just explode out of my sleeves. And they keep getting bigger. And my shoulders start expanding; they get larger and rounder and broader, stretching out further from my neck, which it getting thick like a fire plug. My traps rise up and tear right through my shirt and the whole front of it just falls away, revealing my humongous chest. I look underneath and I see these fantastically cut six pack abs. And below them, just as I start getting taller, I see my pants balloon out and start tearing as enormous ripped thighs rip out of them. But that’s where it ends. That’s when I always climax, right at the part where I’m looking past my gigantic chest at my swelling, bulging legs, and it always wakes me up. And that particular morning, it was no different.

I laid there in my bed gasping while my cock was shooting cum all over my underwear. My hand shot down under the covers to help make the most of the occasion, and I think I managed to milk another shot or two out of the orgasm before it faded. And then I laid there for a minute, just lost in a pleasant sleepy haze with the tingly shadow of the orgasm still lingering damply between my legs.

And then I started thinking about the dream and wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up. How big would I have gotten? How fucking huge and powerful? Maybe as bit as that kid had gotten in real life and that was incredibly massive. And suddenly I was stiff again. My hand returned to the scene of the crime and proceeded to reenact it. I kept picturing the dream and trying to feel what it would be like to get that huge, that fucking strong. I was getting so fucking hot and so fucking hard. I was an instant away from a second explosion when bang my bedroom door flies open and in comes my little brother, Nigel. Fuck!

I rolled over, covering my criminal activity, and yelled, “For God’s sake, Nigel, for once could you knock first?” Nigel was thirteen and a pain in the butt.

“Mom sent me to get you up,” he said, and he presented it like it was a get out of jail free card.

“I don’t care. You still have to knock.”

“Mom and I were having a serious talk about you.”

Oh great, another serious talk. Since the Doctor had broken the news that I would not grow any taller than five feet, there had been many serious talks. They had become unavoidable, like report cards or visits to the dentist.

“Go away, Nigel.”

“You’re just having a grouchy moment. Mom said you’d have lots of grouchy moments now that you’re always going to be short.” That was from talk #37.

“Nigel, leave.”

“You don’t really mean that. Mom said you’d say lots of things you didn’t mean when you had your grouchy moments, you know, because you’re so short.”

Thus was my waking life. “Oh for God’s sake, Nigel, please go away.”

“I can’t. Mom sent me to get you up. I’m not supposed to leave until you’re out of bed.”

Did Mom really hate me that much? But it didn’t matter. I had made quite a mess under the sheets, and I wasn’t getting up until Nigel was long gone. “Look, Nigel, go tell Mom that I’m up and I promise I’ll be down as soon as I can.” I had a little business I wanted to finish.

“That wouldn’t be right,” said Nigel. “Mom said I have a responsibility to you and that I always had to do the right thing, now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Mom says things are going to have to be different. That because of your condition, you’re not going to be able to take care of yourself—you know like the way you keep getting dumped in trash cans all the time?”

Oh please, God, make him shut up. Send a lighting bolt or stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth, anything, just let him stop talking.

“And since I’m taller than you—”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“—I’m going to have to start taking care of you. Mom’s getting me a weight set so I’ll be able to beat up the guys that pick on you.”

“You can’t beat up high school kids. You’re thirteen.”

“Not yet I can’t. But I will be able to. I’m already taller than you.”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“In a couple of years when I’m a freshman, you’ll be a junior. I’ll be in high school too. Then you’ll have a big strong brother to take care of you.”

“That’ll be something to look forward to.”

“Mom says we have to be sensitive to your situation but at the same time we can’t coddle you.”

“I promise you I don’t feel coddled.”

“Like from now on I’m supposed to call you my older brother instead of my big brother. I don’t want you to think I’m making fun of how short you are, especially now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me!”

“What’s going on in here? You boys having fun?” asked my mother as she breezed into my room.

Could no one knock?

“Nigel, I sent you to get your brother out of bed.”

“I know. He wouldn’t come.”

“Well, he’s probably feeling a little depressed—due to his condition. The doctor said we could expect that.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Of course you are, sweetie. It’s not good to hide your feelings.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to win this. “Okay, fine, I’m depressed. Could you please leave me alone?”

“And it’s not good to wallow in them either.” And with that she grabbed my covers and tried to rip them off me. I grabbed hold of them just in time. Another millisecond and my guilty mess would have been uncovered. I then proceeded to have a tug of war with my mother over my covers. The stakes: total humiliation. It gave me an almost inhuman strength. If she was going to take my covers she’d have to rip my hands out of their bloody sockets to do it. But it didn’t come to that. After a minute she gave up.

“Oh, Colin, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

“You could try leaving me alone.”

“Hello there,” came a sing-song voice. “What’s going on in here?” Oh great. Grandma. I’m doused in spunk and my Grandma’s in the room. Even if I get through this I’m going to be totally screwed up.

“Oh, Mom,” said my mom, “you ruined the surprise.”

Surprise? Okay, I don’t know why my mother always does this. It’s Thanksgiving week. Every year on Thanksgiving week, my Grandma comes to visit. And every year my mom acts like it’s this big surprise. Every year.

“I’m sorry dear,” said Grandma. “I see you’re having a little trouble getting Nigel out of bed.”

“Ah, I’m Colin.”

Grandma slid her glasses down to the end of her nose, and peered at me closely. “Surely not. Colin is the older one.”

Okay, can I die now?

“That’s okay, Grandma,” said Nigel. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially now that I’m taller than him.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Good Morning!” said a man’s voice.

Who the…?

“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Reverend,” said my mom.

Holy crap, it’s Reverend Peters! What the hell (if you’ll pardon the expression) is he doing here?

“Not at all,” said the Reverend. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Like hell, you’re not. Oh God, there I go again…and again.

“Of course not. Please come in.”

Thanks Mom. Was there anyone else waiting out there? Saints? Angels? God?

“That’s another surprise ruined,” said my mom. “The Reverend was kind enough to pick your grandma up at the airport, so he’ll be having breakfast with us.”

My cup of joy was overflowing. “Great. That’s just great. I don’t want to keep you. Why don’t you guys get started and I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’m having a little trouble getting sleepyhead out of bed this morning,” said my mom to the Reverend.

“What? On this glorious day?” he cried, with an enthusiasm only ministers seem to be able to pull off. “The sun’s so bright. The sky’s so blue.” Then before I knew what had happened, the Reverend reached down and yanked my covers away.

The world seemed to freeze. There was a moment when my brain just refused to accept what had happened. Then I looked down and saw my partially exposed cock lying in a milky mire of its own creation. I fought back the temptation to scream like a girl. There was dead silence while everyone in the room stared at my soaked crotch.

The first one to react was Nigel. He just burst out laughing. My mom quickly clamped a hand over his eyes, and hustled him from the room, apologizing to the Reverend and Grandma as she went.

The Reverend looked down at me sternly and said, “Young man, we’ll have to have a little talk after breakfast,” and then he left. Great. I can’t wait.

Grandma just chucked and replaced my comforter, giving me back a little of my dignity. It was far too late, but I appreciated the gesture. “Don’t worry about it, Nigel,” she said. “Try Depends.” Then she patted my head and left, closing the door behind her.

Great, Grandma thought I was a bed wetter. Actually she thought Nigel was a bed wetter. I guessed I could live with that. Really, I could live with all of it. On most days, I would probably have been pretty devastated by the morning’s events. But not today. Today was going to be a big day for me. I had been saving for over a month, ever since the fight in The Clearing, and now I finally had enough to buy some of that stuff from Charles, the same stuff that had caused his friend to grow so gigantic in size. And I couldn’t wait to try some. Today my dream would finally come true…but first I had to get through breakfast.

As I came down the stairs I could hear everyone talking happily. Of course, when I entered the room all conversation stopped and was replaced by awkward silence. You know, to tell the truth, I kind of preferred the awkward silence. It certainly beat talking about what happened upstairs and it was also better than everyone falling all over themselves to deliberately avoid the subject. Yeah, give me awkward silence every time. I was actually very happy with the awkward silence—which is, of course, why it couldn’t last.

“Can I get you a pancake, older brother?” asked Nigel.

I just skipped right though all the preliminaries and went straight to: “You’re not taller than me.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “Aren’t I taller than him, Mom?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said my mom. “It’s hard to say.”

“Back to back,” said Nigel. “Come on, Mom, measure us.”

I suddenly got very afraid. Nigel was getting taller. He didn’t have my problem so he would eventually be a normal height. But he couldn’t be taller than me, not yet. I stood up slowly, realizing for the first time just how close Nigel was getting. Crap. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Nigel came running over and stood behind me, his back to my back. I didn’t have to look to know he was standing on his toes.

“Feet flat on the floor, Nigel,” I said.

“They are,” he said, as I felt him slide down against me.

Mom came over and placed her hand between our two heads.

“Well…?” asked Nigel.

I didn’t say anything, because I suddenly realized that if Nigel was taller than me I didn’t want to know. I could feel the back of his skull right up against the back of mine and I knew that this was going to be very close.

“It looks like,” my mom said, “you two are exactly the same height.”

Crap!

“Oh, man!” whined Nigel. “Oh well, I’ll be taller than you by Christmas.” And I knew he was right. If things kept going on the way they were going, my little brother would be looking down on me by the New Year. But I had an ace up my sleeve and if I had anything to say about it, things would not keep going on the way they were going.

“Mom, after breakfast, can you give me a ride to a friend’s house?”

“Not right after breakfast, Colin. The Reverend Peters wants to have a talk with you. And I must say it’s good to have him here, since your father isn’t around.”

My father was British, and, appropriately enough, now lived in England. And I didn’t think the Reverend Peters was any kind of substitute at all. But judging from the amount of time he spent around my Mom, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “we really need to discuss this.”

And I had about as much interest in having this talk with him as I had in Chinese water torture.

“Maybe Nigel should sit in, too. He might learn something as well,” said my mom.

Oh sure. I could give a tutorial.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Grandma. “Just make sure he doesn’t drink any liquids before bed. It works for me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Mom didn’t know what to say. Even Nigel didn’t know what to say. God bless Grandma! She’d brought back the awkward silence.

I just wish there had been a way to carry it over to the little talk I had to have with the Reverend. But the pleasantly strained quiet couldn’t last forever, and before I knew it, the Reverend, Nigel and I were sitting in the family room. And the Reverend, he didn’t believe in preliminaries either.

The devil,” he began, shouting, and turning as red as the entity about which he was talking, “is inside you, Colin!”

My eyes rolled upwards. Oh Christ—and I meant it. Nigel giggled.

“And he’s inside you as well, young man.” Nigel stopped giggling. “He is in all men. And do you know where he lives?”

I could’ve guessed, but I doubt it would have won me any points.

“Right between the legs.”

Personally, I’d always assumed the devil would look more impressive.

“Every time you feel a stirring down there, that’s him talking to you.”

The devil’s quite a blabbermouth, isn’t he?

“And if you listen to him, he will lead you to wrack and ruin, every time! Every time!”

Next time he says anything, I’ll be sure to rough him up good.

“So resist him! Resist his siren’s call. Wait until the time is right.”

The time is right? What the…? “Excuse me, Reverend, are you saying there’s a right time to give into the devil?”

“No, son, I’m talking about the time when you get ready to start a family of your own.”

“But wouldn’t that involve, you know, the devil?”

“They don’t call it original sin for nothing.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I don’t have to worry then.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, no girl is going to be interested in a skinny little shrimp like me.”

“Colin,” he said, “I can see your soul is in peril.”

What? I glanced down at my body trying to see if I could see what he was seeing, but there was no sign of an endangered soul. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the devil, hiding beneath some denim. He seemed pretty subdued at the moment.

“You are in danger of giving into despair, and despair is the devil’s inroad.”

Wait a minute, if the devil was who the Reverend said he was then the guy didn’t need an inroad; he pretty much already owned me.

“I will meditate on your problem and pray for you.”

“I’ll pray for you, too,” said Nigel.

He’ll pray for me? That condescending little prick! Okay, what I was about to do, I wasn’t going to be proud of. In fact, I expected to hate myself for a full sixty seconds.

“But the devil is in you, too, Nigel.”

“What? I’m just a kid.”

“Not so much, Nigel. You’re thirteen now. You’ve got peach fuzz on you upper lip, a cracking voice, and a habit of bleaching your underwear.”

“How’d you know abo…” Nigel started. Then he froze; the full realization that he’d just given himself away was branded across his face. Of course Mom had known. You can’t hide these things from the person who washes your sheets. That’s why she suggested he sit in on our session.

And I had known as soon as I walked into the laundry room and saw his clumsy attempts at bleaching his underwear. I’m sure most of it had holes by now. It’s not like I held it against him or anything. It’s just that his holier-than-thou attitude was really starting to piss me off. Of course, what was really going to make this fun was the fact he thought no one else knew.

“Nigel?” began the Reverend. “Are you masturbating?”

Nigel’s eyes went bug-wide and he started quivering. If you’ve ever seen a rabbit in front of a semi, then you’ve seen my brother at that moment.

“It’s okay, Nigel,” I said. “I’ll pray for you.”

Then he did exactly what most trapped rabbits do. He jumped up and ran for it. I don’t know where he thought he was going. I guess it was just a panic maneuver. And the Reverend, like the Lord’s hound on the sent of sin, jumped up and ran after him.

“Nigel, come back here. We have to talk about this.”

I heard the pounding of running feet and the slamming of doors, and the crash when an occasional knick-knack fell to the ground, as my brother raced through the house searching desperately for a place to hide, and the Reverend chased after him calling, “Nigel. Nigel stop,” obviously desperate to save him.

I did my time. I spent the full sixty seconds hating myself. Then I sat back and grinned from ear to ear. It’s the little moments in life we learn to treasure.

Part 2

Nothing in life is free. I’ve come to realize this. You want something; you have to pay for it. And sometimes, even though the cost isn’t in money, it’s much more than you expect to pay.

All I wanted was a ride over to Charles’ house, but even that had a price, a steep one: I was expected to go clothes shopping on the way. Oh, I couldn’t fault my mom’s reasoning: gas was expensive and the mall was on the way, but I seriously wished Charles lived on the other side of town.

You see, I had this theory. Somewhere on the 5th level of hell, right around the corner from the guys who eat their own eyeballs, is a JC Penney. And this JC Penney is the biggest, brightest JC Penney you could ever imagine. And it’s filled with the coolest, most awesome clothes anyone ever designed or sewn together, but they’re all too big and nothing—not one sock, not one baseball cap—will fit me.

And lucky me, I didn’t have to wait for the afterlife to experience this; I could have it right now, right here, today. And that was the price I had to pay for a ride to Charles’. I briefly considered walking or taking the bus, but it was way too far and way too cold, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable riding the bus with all that cash on me.

Of course Nigel and Grandma had to come too. If they had stayed home there might have been a chance I would’ve gotten through the ordeal without being completely humiliated. So, my life being the way it is, naturally they had to come.

Mom had to get Nigel a few things, too—I’m guessing underwear amongst other things—and as soon as we entered the store they headed for the kids’ department. As we walked by the teen area, I tried not to look. I knew only disappointment and depression awaited me there, but I couldn’t help it. And sure enough, I saw exactly what I was looking for, a pair of jeans; you know the dark blue kind that look slightly stained brown. I really wanted a pair like that, so I broke off from the group and checked out the wrack. What a surprise, they didn’t have them in my size.

I went to find the salesperson and hoped beyond hope that they had some in the back. When I saw her, I just had to take a step back. She was cute, really cute. I think she went to my school, but she had to be a senior. I walked over and looked at her name tag. It read Periwinkle. Hm. Interesting. “Excuse me, ah, Periwinkle?” At the sound of her name, her expression soured like she smelled something bad, but then she saw me and smiled. Wow. I think she likes me.

“Hi there,” she said, beaming. “Peri, just call me Peri.”

Wow, Peri, what a beautiful name. “I was wondering if you had these in my size, Peri,” I said, smiling back at her. She looked at the jeans and put on this cute little pouting expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie.” She called me sweetie! I felt my heart beating faster.

“We only have these in adult sizes. Why don’t you try down there, in the little kids’ department?”

AHHHHRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

She pointed me toward the kids’ department where Nigel was no doubt pimping himself out with the latest in cartoon fashion at this very moment. I went from the height of bliss to the depths of despair in 0.3 seconds. She must have seen the look on my face because she said, “Wait a minute.” And she ran off back to the counter. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. But in a second she was back, holding something behind her.

“Here, this is for you.” And she pulled out a lollypop, a cherry lollypop. Truth be told, there was another cherry I’d’ve been far more interested in. Still, I took the candy even though I was half tempted to throw it on the floor and step on it. But it was just possible that would appear rude. So I stuck it in my pocket instead.

“Hey, Peri.” I heard a low rumble coming from behind me. My blood ran cold. I knew that voice. I turned around and sure enough, it was Benjy Pierce, football player and one of my worst nightmares from school. He took one look at me and smiled, too. But his expression sent my heart pounding for an entirely different reason.

“Hey, runt, what are you doing? Trying to hit on my girl?” An easy foot taller than me, he picked me up in the air so we were face to face. I struggled, did the whole, “What are you doing? Stop. Put me down,” thing that kids usually do in situations like that. Of course, it didn’t work this time either.

“What are you doing, Benjy?” said Peri. “Put him down. He’s just a kid.”

Yeah, Benjy, put me down…

“No, he’s not,” said Benjy. “He’s in my algebra class.”

“Really? He’s so tiny.”

…On second thought, break my neck. Just make it quick.

“Now where is it?” said Benjy, looking around. “I know they’ve got one around here someplace.”

Oh no. Not that. Not here.

“There it is, over by the mall entrance,” said Benjy and then he was carrying me. I shouted and pounded on him, but I had next to no effect. Suddenly I heard more shouting, slightly higher pitched. I looked down, and there was Nigel, pounding away on Benjy shouting, “Leave him alone. Put him down.” Nigel was either really brave or really stupid. Unfortunately, I had to go with the latter.

Benjy looked down and said, “Oh look, twins.”

Murder me.

Then I saw the wastebasket. It was a big one, filled with all kinds of food wrappers and ice cream cups, almost as disgusting as the cafeteria ones at school, and I was intimately familiar with them. And before I knew it, I was upside down and dangling over it. That’s when Grandma attacked. She was hitting Benjy over and over again with a small box she had in her hand. Yes, my Grandma joined my little brother in trying to rescue me from a high school bully. At this point I wasn’t sure who to root for. No matter who won, I was finished. As soon as this got around school, I would be socially washed up. Even the geeks wouldn’t talk to me. They might laugh some, but talk? No way.

I felt Benjy’s grip loosen and suddenly I was sliding into the trash can. I actually had to think about weather or not I wanted to get out. When I finally did stand up, I saw Benjy Pierce backing away from my enraged Grandma. He had somehow gotten her box away from her and was holding it out in front of him trying to ward her off—you know the way you use a cross to ward off a vampire.

“Jeeze, lady, calm down. It was only a joke.”

“It wasn’t’ very funny. You leave my grandson alone or I’ll give you a good ass whooping.”

Benjy burst out laughing. “Excuse me?”

“Oh you think I can’t do it, hunh?”

Benjy just couldn’t stop laughing.

My Grandma, fists clenched, took a menacing step toward Benjy, knocked the box away from him and then proceeded to thrust her knee into his balls. First Benjy’s grin disappeared. Then there was this kind of whooshing noise followed by an “uhnnn” as all the air rushed out of Benjy’s body. His face was a mix of intense surprise and extreme pain as he grabbed his crotch and doubled over. Nigel didn’t waste a second. Suddenly he was all arms and legs, punching and kicking Benjy with everything he had. Benjy toppled to the ground and Nigel got in another couple of blows before he left the redheaded football player alone to writhe on the floor in agony—mostly from the gonad injury I’d have to say.

Okay, I had to wrap my mind around what had just happened. My Grandma and little brother didn’t just rescue me from one of the biggest bullies at Milton Gower High School; they kicked the shit out of him. I was humiliated beyond words. I appreciated why they did it. They wanted to help me. All the same, I wish they had just left him alone. He would have dumped me in the trash and the whole thing would have been forgotten by tomorrow. But now, it was the stuff of legend.

I knew I didn’t have to worry about Benjy spreading the word. No way he was going to tell anyone he’d gotten beaten up by a little old lady. But Peri… She saw the whole thing, and from the way she was laughing, I knew I was screwed. My only consolation was that this was probably going to be almost as bad for Benjy. Although, I don’t think the geeks were going to laugh in his face.

I stood up and tried to climb out of the wastebasket but it toppled over, spilling me and most of its contents all over the floor. Nigel and Grandma were at my side in a moment helping me up. I was covered in garbage. I looked up and saw Peri approaching with the box my Grandma had used to assault Benjy.

“Excuse me,” she said giggling. “I think these are yours.” She held up the box and I could see the brand name Depends written across the front of it. “Except,” Peri continued. “These are men’s.”

Oh no. Please, God, don’t let it be…

“I know they’re men’s,” said my Grandma. “They’re for him. Do you think I got the right size?”

It was at this point I seriously considered crawling back into the trash can, but instead I just shut everything out and silently turned and walked out into the mall. I don’t know how long I wondered or where I went but somehow I wound up back at the car. It was cold. My mind was already numb and now my body was catching up.

How did I get though this? I just kept thinking about growing. I was going to grow. I was going to get big, and big guys didn’t catch near as much crap. All I had to do was get to Charles’ house. That’s all I had to do. That was it. Why was it so damn difficult?

It wasn’t long before my family showed up. Some guy with from the sporting goods store was with them. He had a cart loaded with a couple of heavy looking boxes—Nigel’s new weight set. As the guy loaded it in our car for us, I realized the thought of an overmuscular Nigel tackling bullies for me on a regular basis was a concept horrifying beyond belief. Thank God I had another option.

My family had been worried about me, and I got the standard lecture about wandering off without telling anyone. I gave the standard apologies and promised never to do it again and we all piled into the car.

Then I noticed it. My shirt was a mess. It was covered with stains of ice cream and soda and who-knows-what from the trash can. “Crap! I can’t go to Charles’ like this!”

“Do you want to go home?” asked my mom.

“NO!” I shouted, not meaning to shout. “I mean, maybe we can find a restroom or something and I can wash it out.”

“I don’t think you should wander around in a wet shirt while it’s this cold.”

“I know,” said Nigel. “I can give him an advance.”

“An advance?”

“Yeah. Mom and I had a talk while we were shopping…”

Oh great, another talk.

“…you know, before we had to beat up that bully for you…”

I’m glad you reminded me because it’s been a full thirty minutes and there’s a .0001 percent chance I might have forgotten.

“…and we realized that we both wear the same size clothes now.”

Except your head is already five times bigger than mine.

“So, here,” he said as he dug into one of the JC Penny bags, pulled out a bright red t shirt with a CGI race car on it, and handed it to me.

Gee, I guess they didn’t have anything with teddy bears on it.

“I can’t wear that. I’ll look like I’m twelve!”

“Colin, is that any way to talk to your brother. He’s doing a very generous thing, offering you his new shirt.”

Oh sure, Nigel was very thoughtful. He was thoughtful beating up Benjy. He’s thoughtful lending me his kiddy shirt. Maybe he could wrap me up in a diaper while he was at it. Oh no, wait, grandma had already taken care of that.

But I was stuck and I knew it. Red race cars were my only option. I took the shirt from Nigel and thanked him.

“That’s okay,” said Nigel. “It’ll be yours soon anyway. In a couple of months I’ll be too big for it. But it’ll fit you forever and ever and ever and ever.”

Okay, that was it. By the end of the day, this race car was going to have a serious accident.

“Don’t be too sure,” I said. “I might surprise you.” I pulled off my coat and shirt.

Nigel giggled. “Oh right, sure.”

“You’ll see,” I said as I pulled on his shirt and replaced my coat.

Mom pulled the car over and I checked the address against the one Charles had given me on the phone earlier. I was here. Finally, I was here. I hopped out of the car and waved as my family drove off. I looked up at the house, it was large, two stories tall, light blue, with white trim. It was absolutely the most beautiful house I had ever seen.

I took two steps toward it and suddenly there was this big red faced guy standing in my way. Where’d he come from? I could have sworn he wasn’t there a minute ago. I tried to step around him but he moved to block my way.

“Colin Jones?” he said, more like a statement than a question. Who was this guy? I looked up and suddenly I recognized him.

It was Officer Quinn, one of the cops that had questioned me after the big fight in The Clearing. Someone had seen me give that junior the shot that made him grow, and the cops had grilled me about it for a good three hours. Of course I didn’t tell them anything. But that was more than a month ago. What did they want now?

“Yeah?” I answered him.

“Would you follow me, please,” he said flashing his badge and suddenly putting the whole thing on an official level.

This was not fair. I’d gone through hell and… well, more hell to get here. And now this cop was keeping me from my goal. What now? Was he going to arrest me, yank me away from my prize when I was this close? I looked up at the house just a few feet away from me and sighed. I could make a break for it, but I decided it was probably better just to see what he wanted. So, I followed Officer Quinn.

He led me to an unmarked sedan, opened the back door and instructed me to get in. In a second I found myself sandwiched between him and that other cop, Officer Murkowski.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“We couldn’t help but notice you were on your way to number 23. May we ask why?”

“Just visiting a friend.”

“Then why the disguise?”

“Disguise?”

“You’re dressed like an eight-year-old.”

I looked down. My coat was open and the red race car was shining through. Nice.

“Gee, I guess I can’t fool you. I’m actually the head of a multinational crime syndicate and number 23 is my local base of operations.”

Officer Murkowski sighed. “You know, we can always take this downtown.”

“Look, I’m just visiting a friend.”

Officer Quinn flipped open a note book. “Would that be Charles or Skyler Spooner?”

“Charles.”

“Uh hunh.” The two cops nodded to each other.

“What?” I asked.

“You two are both associates of a known terrorist.”

A terrorist? That junior? Who was he kidding?

“In fact, it is quite possible there is an entire cell of bio-terrorists operating right here in this community.”

“Ahhhhh, right. If you guys’ll excuse me I have an appointment back on planet Earth.”

“All right, Colin. Just keep in mind we’re going to be watching you, and your friend,” Officer Quinn said as he held out a business card. “Take this, just in case you ever feel like talking.”

I took the card and shoved it into my wallet, but only because I was afraid they wouldn’t let me go if I didn’t, and then Officer Quinn opened up the door and let me out.

“Remember, Colin,” he said just before they pulled away. “We haven’t forgotten your little stunt at The Clearing. We’ll be watching.”

Let them watch. I didn’t care. Let them arrest me. I didn’t care about that either. The only thing I cared about was right up that walkway inside that two story house. I took a step towards it. I was half convinced the ground was going to open up beneath me or a tornado was going to come whipping down the street and suck me up, because today, absolutely everything seemed to be conspiring to keep me from that house.

So, it was with no small amount of disbelief that I finally reached the door and knocked. There was no answer; so after about a minute, I knocked again. Still no answer. I was about to knock a third time when the door opened. There was a very pretty middle aged lady standing there. She had jet black hair and dazzling blue eyes. I could tell, about ten years ago, she must have been really hot. I guessed she must have been Charles’s mom, but he didn’t take after her much. He had a thin face and a kind of hawk-like nose, nothing, except his black hair, suggested he was in anyway related to the former beauty queen I saw standing in front of me.

She took one look at me and said, “Sorry, no cookies today,” and shut the door.

I barely stifled a frustrated scream as I knocked again. The lady opened the door and said, “Persistent little urchin, aren’t you?”

“I’m not selling cookies,” I said. “That’s the Girl Scouts.”

“Really? I could have sworn the Cub Scouts sold them, too.”

“I’m not a Cub Scout,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m fifteen.”

She laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Well, at least you’re an amusing pest. I’ll take two boxes.”

“I’m not selling cookies,” I repeated, feeling my face turn as red as my shirt. “I’m here to see Charles.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I see,” she said. “You better come in then.” She opened the door wide and I quickly slid inside before she changed her mind. They had a very nice living room, and Mrs. Spooner offered me a chair.

“I sent Charles to the store, but he should be back in a minute. Would you like something to drink?”

“A little water would be nice, thanks,” I said, and she left the room to go get it. As I sat there I noticed the music she was playing in the background. I’d never heard anything like it before. The melody was smooth and slow and kind of sad. I really liked it. When Mrs. Spooner came back I asked her what it was.

“Oh, just a little Blues,” she said. “Haven’t you ever heard any Blues?”

“No,” I said. If it wasn’t pop or church, it wasn’t played in our house.

“Well,” she said smiling, “they’re usually slow songs about something or someone that you want desperately, but for some reason can’t have.” She sighed as if remembering a similar experience from her own life. “I suppose it’s hard for young people to identify with music like that.”

“Not for me,” I said. “It’s not hard at all.” In fact, it had just about been my entire life. But that was about to change.

Suddenly the door burst open and Charles came in all wrapped up in his winter gear. He stomped his feet and shuddered. “Oh, it’s cold out there,” he said, as he unbuttoned his coat collar and unwrapped his scarf.

I did a double take.

Holy fuck, his neck! Look at his fucking neck! I had never seen a neck like that in my life. Even the football players didn’t have necks like that. It was so thick, just as thick as his head, and I could see cords and tendons standing out on it, and two huge veins running up the sides. And his bulging, powerful traps seemed to be forcing their way out of his collar, stretching it unnaturally wide. Holy fuck! I hadn’t seen Charles since the Clearing, and he hadn’t been anything like this then. I just wasn’t prepared. I started to feel a little light headed. And that was just his neck! Christ!

He must have noticed me staring and he grinned. “Hey, Colin, long time, no see.” He bent his arms and clenched his fists, kind of doing a half most muscular. His whole body swelled up. It was huge. I could see it even underneath the layers of winter clothes he was wearing. I began to hear threads popping. The sound seemed to egg him on and he began flexing harder. He bulged up even bigger. I could see the cloth straining to contain him and the popping became more rapid and louder. I was sure any second he was just going to just explode out of his coat.

“Charles Spooner, you stop that this instant,” said his mother. “You tear that coat and that’s it. I’m not buying you another one until Christmas. You’ll just have to freeze until then.”

Charles’ grin drooped; he relaxed and the popping stopped.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said to me. “Ever since he started weight lifting, he has to show off to everyone who comes over. It’s a little vulgar if you ask me.”

“That’s okay,” I said a little shakily. Charles’ little display had gotten me really excited—on many different levels. In fact, I was really hoping to see a little more vulgarity. I think Charles guessed how I was feeling because he invited me to come up to his room. I eagerly followed him up the stairs. We got about half way up when suddenly I heard this crash come from above us.

“Shit!” yelled Charles and he took off running. I ran after him. I was right behind him when he slammed a door open and thundered into one of the rooms. I guess it was his bedroom. There was Star Wars stuff everywhere, posters on the walls, books and toys scattered across the shelves and the floor. It was a mess. It looked like someone had been searching his room… and that someone was still there. He was bent over, going through a chest at the foot of Charles’ bed, and as soon as we came in, he stopped and stood up.

Suddenly time froze and the world stopped. The person standing at the foot of Charles’ bed was the most dazzling human being I had ever seen. He had to be around my age, maybe a little older. He had thick, ink black hair, pale skin and explosively blue eyes. He had high cheek bones, and a straight, perfectly formed nose. He was about an inch shorter than Charles but only a fraction of his width—not that he was skinny. He had a good build, solid, but not bulky. He was defiantly amazing looking. Here, obviously, was the son of that woman downstairs. But there was something more to him than looks, something I couldn’t put my finger on, something that raised him from just good looking to beautiful. Maybe it was his expressive eyes, or his rebellious, fearless expression. What ever it was, he was perfect, absolutely perfect, and as soon as I saw him I was totally and sincerely lost.

I considered myself to be a fairly stable guy, feet anchored firmly on the ground. I didn’t tend to be impulsive or get caught up in whims. But this time was different. Not one person, no girl, and certainly no guy, had ever affected me in a way that was even close to this. I felt myself getting dizzy, the breath getting caught in my throat. Somehow, in just an instant, this person had completely captured my soul, and I knew I would die if I didn’t find some way to be with him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sky,” shouted Charles, and the world started spinning again. In two steps he crossed the floor and grabbed the vision under the arms and pinned him up against the wall.

“Don’t hurt him,” I blurted, before I could stop myself.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” said Charles. “I’m going to kill him.” Then he turned back to his victim and yelled, “How many fucking times do we have to go through this? Stay the fuck out of my room.”

“I know what you’re doing, Bro. Don’t think I don’t, and it’s wrong to keep it for yourself. There are millions of people out there with debilitating muscular disorders who need that stuff. You can’t just hoard it for your own personal ego trip.”

Wow, he had a great voice, deep and rich and rolling, none of the nasal quality of Charles’. And he was so brave.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,” said Charles. “As if I hadn’t heard that a thousand times. The stuff’ll be on the market soon enough. They can get it then.”

“That’s not necessarily true and you know—”

“Yeah, thank you,” said Charles cutting his brother off, and hustling him toward the door. “I hereby declare this meeting of the bleeding hearts society closed. Come in my room again and I’ll rip your head off.” And then he tossed his brother into the hall and slammed the door. “Sorry about Sky,” he said as he turned back to me. “He’s Michael Moore’s biggest fan, if you know what I mean.”

“Sky…” I said, tasting the name.

“Yeah, he keeps coming in here trying to find my stash so he can bring some to the tree huggers—or whoever the hell it is he hangs out with.”

“Sky…” I repeated.

“Are you okay?”

No. No, I’m not. I’ll never be okay, never again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Do you think your brother’s okay? Maybe we should go check.”

“He’ll be fine. Look, do you want to buy some of this stuff, or not.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, mechanically. What was wrong with me? I had been waiting for this moment for a solid month. It had been all I could think about. Now I was treating it like buying a soda at the 7-11. I’d better pull my head out of my ass and get back with the program. I wonder what Sky is doing right now.

“Wait a minute,” said Charles. “How old are you?”

I looked down and saw my red race car shirt blaring, and it cleared my head pretty quick. Fuck. “Fifteen,” I said.

“Are you sure? ‘cause you look a lot younger. I’m only asking because this stuff can have some pretty unpredictable effects if you’re too young.”

“I’m fifteen, okay? You want to see some ID, or something?” I was starting to get a little pissed.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, I would.”

“Fine.” I reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet with my school ID and the first thing that came out was the cherry sucker Peri had given me. Perfect. “Yeah,” I said trying to stare Charles down. “This is my lollypop. You got a problem with that?”

“Dude,” he said, “I just need to see your ID.”

I retrieved my ID and showed it to him. He looked it over very closely and then seemed satisfied and handed it back to me.

I removed the wad of cash from my wallet and handed it over to Charles. He counted the money quickly, walked to an R2D2 cookie jar, and shoved it inside. Then he turned to me solemnly. “You can’t breathe a word about this to anyone, especially my brother. Promise?” At the mere mention of Sky, I felt my knees get weak. Holy Crap! I had to get a handle on this. Still, I managed to nod and Charles pushed back his bed and pulled up one of he floor boards. I’m guessing it was loose but, looking at the way Charles’ muscles swelled under his coat, it didn’t need to be. He pulled out a metal case and removed from it a small bottle, which he handed to me.

“Take five cc’s a day,” he said. “You paid what I usually charge for a week’s worth of the stuff, but there’s enough here for a month. And a month is all it took for me to go from this…” he held up a photo of himself, looking quite skinny and nerdly, “…to this…” and then he finally pealed back his coat. Holy fuck! Holy fucking fuck! Triple holy fucking fuck! He was huge! No, he went beyond huge, he was monumentally enourmous!

Charles wasn’t wearing what you’d actually want to call a shirt. The garment was more a nod to the shirt, a concession to dress codes everywhere, which boldly proclaimed no shirt, no shoes, no service. Essentially it was a small square of black cloth which hung down somewhere around the second level of his eight brick-like abs—and it did a feeble job of obscuring even them. From this square of cloth, two strings ran up either side past his soccer ball sized pecs, over his massive bulging traps and then down his back over the widest pair of lats I’d seen since The Clearing, and then connected to another small square of black cloth that attempted to cover his lower back.

Nothing was left to the imagination. Nothing had to be. The truth was just too fucking awesome. And don’t get me started on his arms. I had a feeling that when he went to the movies, he had to buy three seats, one for him and one for each of his arms. His shoulders alone were the size of my head, his biceps and triceps nearly as wide as my torso and his forearms were almost as thick as my leg. How the hell he wrapped that coat around all that muscle was a mystery to me. It had to be bigger on the inside then it was on the outside.

He started pumping his arms and then he flexed for me. Hooooooly crap! I couldn’t believe the size of those things. It looked like three massive bulging boulders were piled up on his arms, his skin was stretched thinly around them and a thick web of veins running all up, down and around the monsters. How much fucking power he must have. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like to be that big. Then I realized I wouldn’t have to imagine it; I could experience it. I started hyperventilating. Between Charles and his brother, I think my hormones went into overdrive. I felt myself getting dizy.

Charles relaxed at once and led me over to a chair. “You okay there, little guy? I didn’t mean to excite you; it’s just that when you have a body like this, you can’t help but show off a little.”

“How…,” I started, barley able to breath. “How much taller did you get?”

Suddenly Charles looked a little puzzled. “I didn’t get any taller. I was five foot ten before. I’m five foot ten now. This stuff doesn’t work that way. It mostly works on the skeletal muscles.”

No! “But… but what about your friend in The Clearing? He got gigantic.”

“Yeah, well he’s genetically—different.”

No, this wasn’t fair!

“Look,” said Charles, “this stuff isn’t a magic potion. You have to work out. But the results are insane. In a month, you could be the strongest kid in your class. No one will pick on you. They’ll all be too afraid you’ll wad ‘em up like a ball and flush them down the toilet. It’s a pretty cool feeling when the bullies are scared of you.” He grinned amiably.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“I’m sorry this isn’t the solution to all your problems, but I promise you it will help. In a month, you could have guns like this.” He flexed and I saw those mammoth formations ripple up on his arms again. They were amazingly awesome. Even if I didn’t get any taller, it was guaranteed I’d never see the inside of another trash can. And next time, I could beat the crap out of Benjy Pierce all by myself, and I’d be sure and do it in front of a crowd! Yeah, sure, this would still be awesome. Bring it on.

“Thanks, Charles.”

“No problem. Just remember, if you get caught with the stuff, you didn’t get it from me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Charles led me downstairs. I kept looking around hoping to catch a glimpse of Sky, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere around.

“So, you brother goes to Milton Gower?” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, he’s a sophomore.”

Yes! “That would make him what, about sixteen?”

“Un hunh.” I wanted to ask what classes he was in, what clubs he belonged to, and what his favorite color was, but I thought that might be just a little obsessive. So, I held back.

“You think he’s still home?” I asked looking around down every hall, and peering through each door we passed.

“Probably not,” said Charles. “These days he spends most of his time saving the world. Ha! Good luck. But you don’t have to worry about him. If he starts harassing you, just let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“You think he might start harassing me?” I said, sounding entirely too hopeful.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Then I remembered someone else who had been harassing me, the cops. No way did I want them to catch me with the stuff I’d just bought from Charles. So, I asked him if I could go out the back. I could tell he thought I was trying to avoid Sky. But the truth was: if I thought I would run into Sky going out the front, I would have risked the cops, no question.

As I plodded down Charles’ back steps, I tried to plot a course to the nearest bus stop. I thought about calling my mom for a ride, but I just couldn’t deal with my family right now. As a matter of fact, if I could find some way of avoiding them, for say… the rest of the decade, I would be only too happy.

I figured I would cut through Charles’ yard and the yard behind it, and get out to the street that way, when suddenly I heard a voice. “Hey! Instinctively I turned around. It was Sky! I felt the world grinding to a halt again. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I couldn’t believe he was calling to me and heading this way. Holy crap! What do I say?I’d swear he had some kind of super power because I couldn’t move; my breath was coming in gasps and my legs were turning to spaghetti. He was just so incredibly amazing, everything about him. The way he moved, the way his coat fit him, the way a lock of hair stuck out from under his cap, a more perfect creature God had not created. And the closer he got to me the more hot currents I could feel running up and down my spine. I wondered if I would explode before he arrived.

“Hey,” he said again upon reaching me, still miraculously combustion free.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I couldn’t believe he was this close to me. I could feel the blood rushing from my head, making me stupid, and my heart must have been going a million miles a minute. I’m surprised he didn’t hear it. I don’t know; maybe he did.

“Sorry if I startled you,” he said.

Startled didn’t even begin to cover it.

“What’s your name?”

My name? What’s my name? Crap! What is my name? Come on, I knew it this morning.

“Colin,” I managed. Somehow I almost sounded like I was in control. I don’t know how that happened.

“Colin, I’m going to be straight with you. I know what you bought from my brother.”

I knew he was talking to me, but he was also looking at me with those piercing blue eyes, and when I heard his voice speak my name, all capacity for coherent thought evaporated. I just kept hearing it over and over in my head, Colin, Colin, Colin. I never knew my name was so beautiful until I heard it spoken by him.

“So, what do you say? Will you help me?” he finished.

I had the sinking feeling I’d missed something. Fortunately, he seemed to mistake my confusion for indecision.

“I almost feel guilty for asking,” he said. “Most of the people my brother sells to are egomaniacal, brainless jocks. You’re probably the only one who might actually have a legitimate need. But your sacrifice could help thousands of people who suffer daily from debilitating diseases. I know I’m asking a lot, but it’s for a good cause.”

And now I knew. He wanted the stuff I’d just bought from Charles. If he had asked for anything else I owned I’d have turned it over without a single thought. But this was my one chance of getting any kind of size at all. Without it, I’d be doomed to endless humiliation.

But then I looked up at that face, that perfect face with those mesmerizing, pleading eyes. And what made it nearly irresistible was the fact that he wasn’t pleading for himself, but for thousands of others, who were helpless to help themselves. He had all that beauty, and he was still selfless and noble. If I could have died then, I would have—anything to keep from having to make that decision. I was completely torn in half, and I really didn’t know what to do.

Description Five-foot-nothing Colin dreams of getting bigger. Then he meets muscle-stud Charles’s dazzling brother Sky and all of his fantasies intensify, leading to his seeking out the secrets of height and muscle growth.

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