Description The guys at school are really susceptible to suggestion—so much so that if you tell them something’s true, it turns out that it actually is true.
|Updated||02 Mar 2016|
Jake wandered out the front doors of his new high school, Millard Fillmore High, and found himself smack in the middle of the Dudes. At least, that's what Jake called them, because every single sentence he'd heard them utter so far was prefaced by the word “Dude.” It was as predictable as pop quizzes and the football team's unbreakable losing streak.
Jake rolled his eyes, wishing he'd left by the side entrance. He had three classes with this same knot of four interchangeable senior-year jocks, and they were all idiots who said dumb things, and congregated after school to swap rumors no one else gave the slightest credence to. These guys, they believed every goddamned thing you told them. That was the only plus about them—watching their eyes get big when you laid a whopper on them.
“Dude, I'm telling you, Stu Keller is totally gay,” Surfer was saying. He was the long-haired skinny blond who looked the most like a surfer. Jake had never bothered to learn their names.
The others were all nodding. Jake was amazed—Stu Keller? Stu was the butchest guy in the school. Even after only six weeks here, Jake knew that. How did a rumor like that start? Just because Stu didn't beat up all the gay guys that lusted after him and couldn't help staring at his gymrat gymnast bod. For which Jake was privately very grateful.
Jake decided to turn the misfortune of running into the Dudes into some mild entertainment for himself. “Dude, you're not kidding,” Jake said, mimicking their empty-headed tone. “I heard the school paper guy caught him fucking—” Jake cast around for a name—“Armand the exchange student! They got pictures and everything!”
Skater, the long-haired brunette who looked only a little less like a surfer than Surfer, was awestruck. “Dude, no way! They got pics?”
“Absolutely! But they couldn't print them.”
“Dude, why not?” Skater asked.
Jake grinned, mentally expanding his story. So to speak. “Because he was nude. And he had a hard-on.” It works even better if you lead up to it, Jake thought with a private smirk.
“Dude, he was fucking boned in the pics?” Surfer exclaimed.
“You can totally see his boner in the pics,” Jake said. “And—he's fucking huge!” The Dudes crowded in closer, fascinated.
“Dude, how big?” whispered Jockboy, the soccer jock with the buzz cut. Jockboy was Jake's teammate on the soccer team, so he was the only one he saw separate from the group. Jake, trying to avoid being caught looking at the other guys' cocks in the shower, had noticed Jockboy furtively scoping them himself. Jockboy liked cock at least as much as Jake did. He wanted to hear that Stu's cock was big, enormous.
Jake glanced rapidly from one pair of shining eyes to another. God, they really were perfectly gullible. He could tell looking at them. He knew clearly, in that moment, that they would actually believe any thing he told them, totally and without question.
Could anyone really be this wide-eyed and utterly credulous? Jake had to find out. He leaned in still closer, and the others followed suit, their faces now inches apart.
“Eighteen fucking inches,” Jake whispered.
The Dudes gasped and recoiled as one, as if the monster python in question had suddenly appeared in their midst and thrust itself at them. Their faces were such a study in amazement, Jake could barely keep himself from laughing out loud.
“Dude, whoooaa!!” breathed Jockboy.
Thrilled at being believed, Jake pushed further. “And as wide as your fucking palm!”
“Dude, poor Armand!” giggled the sinewy redheaded second-string quarterback (Jake thought of him as QB2). It was funny to imagine—Armand was cute but small, and his ass—which Jake had actually spent some time looking at—looked like it would be really tight.
“Yeah, I heard Stu could only get the head in before Armand started screaming,” Jake said laughing. The others laughed appreciatively, QB2 rubbing his ass as he imagined Armand's pain.
Jake shook his head, amazed at his classmates' awe-inspiring credulity. “Well, I gotta go,” he said, slapping the Dudes on the shoulders and trotting down the steps, still shaking his head.
“Dude, what's the rush?” asked Surfer. Jake paused and turned. Surfer was grinning at him, brushing his loose blond hair out of his face, staring at Jake intently. What was wrong with him? It's like these idiots believed that Jake was their friend or something.
He decided to throw them a bone, so to speak. He walked back up the steps to where they were. “Stu's waiting for me,” he said confidentially. “He's been teaching me autofellatio.”
He watched in amused awe as the Dudes drank this in, impressed. “Dude, wait,” objected Jockboy. “Isn't it cheating if he does it?” QB2 burst into laughter, imagining the scene.
Jake realized he hadn't thought that far, and smiled. “I dunno,” Jake said. “Depends on how much you want him to take.” Jake felt a thrill as their eyes got even bigger, imagining Stu swallowing all of his own enormous cock.
“Dude, he never even looks at anyone,” Jockboy said.
“Except poor Armand!” snickered QB2.
“Yeah,” laughed Jockboy. “He must really think you're hot!” The soccer boy was eying Jake wistfully. He'd long suspected that Jockboy had been looking at Jake, too, in the locker room, and more than anyone else.
“Dude, I bet he's a great teacher,” Surfer said.
“Totally,” Jake said, leaning in again. “When we started I could only suck half my cock.” He winked at Jockboy, knowing this would cause them to guess that Jake had a pretty damn big cock if he could suck half of it without even trying. And sure enough the Dudes stared at him, open-mouthed, as he turned and walked nonchalantly toward his old red pickup, which was parked right there in the front lot. In fact, they were still there, dumbstruck and staring in wonder at him as he pulled out of the lot and onto the street for home.
On the drive to his father's house, Jake started to get aroused as he thought about the fantasy of sucking his own generous cock, something he'd never been able to do. … At least, not well … Not at all, or not well? His heart was beating hard, he realized. Something was out of place. His dick was now really hard in his jeans, rubbing against the denim (when had he stopped wearing underwear?), and he felt flushed as he slowed to a stop for a red light, imagining unzipping and going down on himself right there in the truck, blowing his load in his mouth before it turned green. This was a long light …
His mind wandered and he started panting as he fantasized about enthusiastically sucking himself in his room every night, a fantasy so vivid it seemed like a memory. Suddenly horns were blaring behind him, jolting him out of his bone-hard reverie, and he jerked his truck into motion.
Then he was home, somehow. Jake wasn't sure how he made it home in one piece, because he totally wasn't paying attention to his driving. His hard cock and things that needed to be done to it had his full attention.
As he pulled up the driveway, he noted with mild surprise that there was someone lounging against the front door. Someone big.
Jake shut down the truck and, taking a moment to adjust himself so he could stand, climbed out of the truck and jogged up the walkway toward the front door.
“Hey, Jake,” said the figure languidly. It was Stu Keller.
“Hey,” Jake replied faintly. Stu was gorgeous as ever—tall, sandy hair, green eyes, and built like a gym rat, his loose hockey jersey still betraying his bulging shoulders and melon pecs. Best of all, his wrist-thick softie was plainly obvious in his loose basketball shorts, and so huge that as he stopped leaning against the wall and became fully upright, the wide tip briefly appeared under the hem of his shorts.
It was huge, impossibly long. But what was really amazing was how thick it was. Jake had imagined a huge cocks before, but he'd always figured it would be kind of like his own cock, which was not all that wide and didn't look all that huge even when it stiffened to its full twelve inches. But Stu's cock, soft, was so thick and heavy that Jake's was overwhelmed with an urgent need to have that monster filling his mouth, growing bigger and harder as Jake's tongue aroused him, until its head alone became almost too big for him to take. Almost.
“I see you're ready for your lesson,” Stu remarked, glancing in bemusement at Jake's own rock-hard boner, clearly outlined in his jeans. Jake just nodded. Stu cocked his head toward the door behind him, reminding Jake that he was standing outside his own house like an idiot. He fumbled with the keys and managed to unlock the door. Stu followed him in and closed the door behind them.
Jake's mind felt clouded. As they headed for his room, feeling the warmth of Stu's hot body as his tutor followed inches behind him, he tried to grasp for reality as is if it were a wet bar of soap. Stu seemed easygoing. Maybe he should just ask. “So Stu, how long have we been doing this?” he stammered, failing spectacularly at a casual tone. The bleary sense that it had been a month floated to the top of his consciousness. “A month?”
They were climbing the back stairs now toward the second floor, where Jake's room was. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you've been starting at my dick since you got here.”
“Everyone stares at that that thing,” Jake said. They were now in Jake's room. Jake closed the door and returned his gaze to Stu's amazing body.
“Everyone would stare at me even if I had a regular dick,” Stu said, spreading his arms to exhibit his perfectly sculpted bod, but, Jake realized, without conceit. Stu was already a little aroused: a few inches of palmwide, semi-soft cock now showed below the hem of his shorts. Jake's jeans were around his ankles—when had that happened?
“That's true, they did,” Jake said, hazily remembering, then paused, confused, the “memory” gone. Why would he imagine Stu without his monster sausage? “They would, I mean.”
Stu grinned brilliantly at him, idly caressing his own honeydew-sized pecs. “You okay?”
Jake nodded, staring at the slowly swelling organ. Why wasn't it in a mouth yet? “But you don't do this with anyone else,” he said, feeling sure about this. He knelt and slowly pulled down Stu's shorts. “Everyone looks, but only I get to—see,” he said.
“Well, I gotta be really turned on to get this thing all the way hard,” Stu said, placing his hands under Jake's arms and gently raising him up to his feet, their faces inches apart.
“And?” Jake said, feeling Stu's hardening monster slowly rising up between Jake's soccer-sculpted legs.
Stu leaned in for a deep kiss. After some time passed in this manner, Stu moved his bristly cheek along Jake's and whispered in his ear. “You turn me on,” he breathed.
Their arms were around each other, Jake's big warm hands revelling in Stu's broad back and tiny waist and the monster slab of cock that was gently, rhythmically fucking Jake's thick soccer-boy legs, Stu's thickly muscled arms warm against Jake's fit torso as they made out passionately, Jake's drooling ten-inch cock thrusting against Stu's heaving, sweaty, tight-muscled abs. With one hand Jake reached down and cupped Stu's heavy, softball-sized balls, eliciting a smooth moan from the overhung hunk.
It didn't take long to drive Jake close to the edge. “I'm close,” he breathed. Stu stopped immediately, pulling his lips away from Jake's and withdrawing his 18-inch cock from between Jake's legs.
“Remember our deal,” Stu said with a grin.
“What was our deal again?” Jake murmured distractedly, trying to resume the kiss.
“You know our deal,” Stu admonished, guiding him toward the bed and sitting him down on the edge. Jake's cock frantically throbbed as it pointed straight up—toward the mouth it somehow knew it wanted—Jake's own mouth. Jake licked his lips, staring at it.
“While you're here,” Jake said slowly, suddenly struck with how beautiful his cock was, “he only blows inside me.”
Without waiting for confirmation, Jake bent down and wrapped his warm lips around his own shuddering hard-on, breathing through his nose without thinking. It felt fucking amazing.
“Remember what we talked about,” he heard Stu saying faintly. “Your abs can work with you or against you…”
Stu continued, reminding Jake of their training, the exercises they'd done, his voice subsiding into a subconscious, almost hypnotic background noise, and Jake realized he was taking more and more of his own big cock into his feverishly hot mouth, his impossibly hard cock eagerly pushing forward, Jake sensing nothing of his body but his mouth and his cock, and pleasure, ecstatic pleasure.
Suddenly he thrust deep into his mouth and he could feel his thin pubes against his lips, and his big cock had pushed itself into his throat! He only had to suck a little and suddenly he was cumming hard, and he had to pull his cockhead from his throat into his mouth to keep from choking, frantically swallowing as he came in powerful, hot torrents. He came and came and came and then it was over, and his cock was still hard in his cum-filled mouth.
As he pulled his mouth off his quivering cock he found that Stu was on his knees in front of him, his face close to Jake's. “Let me taste,” he said, moving in for a long, deep kiss.
As their lips pulled apart, Stu was grinning. “Well, you finally took it all,” he said. “And that means you get the reward I promised.” Stu's drooling, arm-sized monster boner was suddenly between them, and Stu grabbed the shaft with one hand and drew it forward, drawing a bead of precum along Jake's upper lip.
“C'mon,” Stu said softly. “I'm gonna need some help with this.”
Jake went to bed early that night, much to the surprise of his dad and younger brother Kevin—Jake always stayed up watching TV and talking about soccer or motorcycles or whatever he was fantasizing about that week. But Jake's mind was full of a fantasy fulfilled—his accomplishment during the afternoon's lesson, not to mention the prize that came afterward. He shed his clothes and parked himself on the edge of the bed, and proceeded deliriously to suck himself off three times in a row, marveling how easy it was now to take his whole cock, and how awesome it felt to blow his wad in his own mouth. As he lovingly sucked himself he thought about Stu, how hot he was, how amazing his body and cock were, and most of all how Stu was actually turned on by him, Jake. He finally collapsed back on his bed, his footlong dick lying on his belly still half-hard, his mouth still yearning for cock.
He selfed himself twice more before school, showering and dressing only reluctantly. At breakfast his dad was hidden behind the paper as usual, but Kevin seemed distracted. He kept glancing at Jake, and when Jake got up from the table he thought he caught Kevin glancing at his package. Jake frowned at him and Kevin, startled, returned his attention to his cereal. That kid has been acting strange ever since we moved here, Jake thought. It's almost like—
Jake stopped, still frowning at his brother. Suddenly a conversation sprang to mind, one that had taken place five weeks ago, right after his first soccer practice. He'd noticed Jockboy checking out guys in the showers and decided to tease him a little. As Jockboy got dressed in the locker room, Jake sat next to him to pull on his shoes.
“So, who do you think is biggest?” he said, quiet enough that only Jockboy could hear.
“Dude, I dunno what you're talking about,” Jockboy whispered, alarmed.
“My vote would be Zack Weiss,” Jake continued quietly. “Long, but not very thick.”
Jockboy froze, staring down at him in distress. He'd stopped in the process of starting to put on his tee shirt, his forearms inside the shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his tight pecs. Jake realized Jockboy was afraid Jake was angry that Jockboy had been looking at Jake's cock in the shower.
Suddenly Jake regretted the idea of teasing a fellow cockwatcher like this. He decided to put him at his ease.
“Relax,” Jake said with a smile. “I'm okay with it. Heck, I totally know where you're coming from.”
Jockboy stared at him, unsure what he meant. Jake opened his mouth to explain, then stopped.
Jake had been about to confess that he was obsessed with cock himself, but suddenly he shied away from coming out to a guy he only knew a little, a week into a new life at a new school. But he had to say something, so he hurriedly made something up. “I—my—my brother does it all the time.”
“Does what, dude?” Jockboy whispered, sinking down to sit next to him on the bench, his arms still stalled in the process of pulling on the tee shirt.
“Look at cock,” Jake breathed, glancing around. “All the time. I think he even checks out my junk. Course, he's only 17. He must be constantly horny.”
“Dude, and we aren't?” whispered Jockboy, smiling for the first time. He finally shrugged into his shirt.
“Good point,” Jake said, smiling back at him. “But I bet Kevin's as horny as the two of us put together.”
Now Jake was looking at Kevin eating breakfast, very obviously not looking at Jake.
“Oh my God,” Jake said abruptly, feeling the blood drain from his face. Kevin now looked up at him, clearly wondering what was wrong with Jake all of a sudden.
Jake remembered that conversation perfectly. He remembered making up the name Kevin.
He remembered making up having a brother at all!
Jake dropped down into his chair, staring open-mouthed at Kevin, who had clearly decided his brother was nuts. “Kevin—” Jake began, but he couldn't frame a question that made sense. What could he ask? Whether he remembered existing 6 weeks ago? Whether he really was twice as horny as Jake was?
“What?!” Kevin demanded.
Jake looked at Kevin as if for the first time. He looked like Jake, only a year younger, and a lot cuter. (Jake knew that he himself was pretty fucking cute, but Kevin, he now realized, was startlingly cute.)
“Jake, what the fuck?” Kevin said, dropping his spoon and standing up. His body was like Jake's too, but wirier, though muscular for his age. It was as if someone had imagined what Jake's younger brother would look like, only sexier.
“Language,” came a disinterested voice from behind the paper.
Jake shook his head. How could this happen?
The same way Stu ended up with an 18-inch cock, a voice in his head said. The same way you ended up with autofellatio lessons.
Jake was flabbergasted, but he knew with certainty the voice was right. Stu had been a beautiful hunk before, but the knee-length salami was new. And him being able to suck himself at all was new. New as of yesterday afternoon.
Jake couldn't think clearly. He wanted to shut down. Hastily he bolted from the table, gabbed his pack and ran out the door.
He was in a fuzzy daze the whole morning, not totally conscious of where he was or what he was doing. He stared blankly at the pop quiz in history class, trying to force his brain to engage, to no avail. He sat down at lunch with a tray that was completely empty except for three small bowls of green Jell-O.
Suddenly the Dudes were upon him, piling into the other seats around the small lunchroom table, dropping trays full of terrible cafeteria food in front of them. Jockboy somehow managed to be sitting right next to Jake, his tight muscular leg pressed against Jake's like there was no other choice. Jockboy—whose real name, Jake suddenly remembered, was Thom—had made a point of “innocent” contact before, but Jake wondered whether Thom had been energized by the sudden emergence of Amazing Stu as a rival into trying harder to be close to Jake. Jake also realized he didn't mind. Jake smiled at Jockboy, and Jockboy grinned back, giddily flexing his thigh against Jake—s. Jake's long cock stirred in his jeans, rubbing a little against the unprotected denim, and a flush of warmth blossomed in Jake's torso.
Skater, QB2, and Surfer were all staring at him eagerly as they stuffed their faces. “So, dude?” hazarded Surfer, always the ringleader. “How was the lesson?” They all looked at him expectantly.
Jake was tempted to embroider but was a little awed to realize he didn't have to. Besides, he needed to be very careful what he said to these guys. He knew at some level exactly what had been happening, but it was so bizarre that he had to test it with something so specific that there's be no doubt.
“Fantastic,” he said, and the dudes exchanged excited glances. Jake leaned in so only they could hear. “I finally swallowed the whole thing!”
“Fuck, dude!” yelled Skater, his eyes bugged out, then quickly looked around to see if anyone heard his outburst. Jake felt Jockboy breathing raggedly to his right. Fuck, was he giving his soccer buddy an orgasm right here in the lunchroom? He decided not to glance over at him, but he flexed his thigh against Thom’s, and Thom did it back.
“So how come you're not eating?” Surfer said, nodding at Jake's nearly empty tray. Jake noticed that everyone but Skater had already polished off nearly all their chicken fingers and fries. “Getting all your protein at home? Or here in the bathroom stalls?” he added with a wicked grin, and QB2 laughed out loud.
“Naw,” Jake said casually, his mind racing. All four had their eyes fixed on him, eager, expectant. He felt like they lived off his stories as much as the chicken fingers. But he needed something specific. His eyes fell to the green Jell-O.
“I was going to try something,” he said. “See, my buddy on the school paper went digging into what happens into the cafeteria, and it turns out they put all kinds of stuff in the food here to experiment on us!”
“Like what?” asked QB2 breathlessly. Jake wondered if the football dude was already thinking steroids, muscle builders, stuff like that.
“Well, I know for a fact—” Jake leaned in again, and the four dudes did too—“that they just started putting something in the Jell-O that changes your eye color.”
“For how long?” Surfer said immediately.
“Um, a week,” Jake said. “It wears off after that.”
“How much do you have to take?” Skater broke in. Jake was impressed—they like being specific even more than I'd planned.
“Oh, you gotta eat at least—” Jake quickly counted up the Jell-Os at the table: his three plus the others all had one each, no, Surfer had two—“eight of them, they don't want it to happen to everyone! I was going to do it, but I chickened out and put most of mine back. Green eyes are so sexy, but I don't know if I want them for myself.”
“I do!” Thom blurted out, just as Jake knew he would.
Everyone shifted their rapt gaze to Thom, who flushed, unused to being the center of attention. Jake realized Thom had barely touched his food.
Silently, the whole table passed their Jell-O to Thom, who seemed flustered under the Dudes’ unbending, excited stare. Under the table, Jake wasn't sure why, but he felt moved to put a calming hand on Thom's strong thigh. Thom glanced quickly at Jake, then, staring at the eight Jell-Os for a moment suddenly grabbed each of them and tossed the green cubes into his mouth, slamming the little bowls back down on the table as if he were doing a row of shots. In seconds all the Jell-O was gone.
Thom turned and looked deep into Jake's eyes, and Jake gazed back, looking so deeply into those sharp, gorgeous eyes that he didn't even realize at first how much more gorgeous they were now that they were bright emerald green.
“It worked!” said Surfer, who'd gotten up and come around to look over Jake's shoulder. The others got up to see as well.
“Wow,” QB2 said softly. “Green eyes really are sexy.” Jake realized later that this was almost certainly the first gay thought that that superstraight boy had ever had.
“Yeah,” breathed Jake. He barely noticed that he was wishing the other three weren't there, that he was alone with Thom.
But no such luck. QB2 was asking urgently, “Dude, what else is in the food?”
Jake grinned, and Thom smiled too, as if he got it that his friends were ignoring something cool and kinda intimate that had just happened between Jake and Thom. Jake reluctantly broke his gaze with Thom, realizing as he did so that he was completely boned in his jeans, and favored QB2 with a droll look.
“What, dude?” said QB2, confused. Jake looked at him, defeated. He looked like a perplexed puppy. Fine: another bone. But not a total freebie.
“Well,” he said, arranging the wording in his head that he wanted, “the lunch ladies know who the football jocks are, you know. So you got the “special” chicken fingers.”
“What do they do? What do they do?” QB2 demanded eagerly.
Jake tried not to laugh. “They put a really powerful dose of something that doubles the effect of your workouts,” he said. “For a whole week. It's geared especially toward the upper body, but your legs and ass will tighten up too.”
QB2's eyes were as big as saucers. Suddenly he jumped up out of his seat. “Dudes, I gotta go,” he said, and bolted—for the gym, no doubt.
“Dude, we totally won't see him for a week,” grinned Surfer.
“So,” said Thom, and Jake turned toward him. Thom's face was bright and happy, his green eyes gleaming. Jake's big cock flexed in his lap. “Nothing for the soccer team?”
“The soccer team,” Jake said, “doesn't need as much help.” Thom laughed, and then their lips met, without Jake even realizing that he'd leaned forward, and Jake forgot all about credulous magic for a while.
Millard Fillmore High had possibly the most raucous, penetrating class bells of any American high school. And when the bell suddenly rang announcing the end of lunch period, Jake started, jarred violently from his drifting thoughts as if emerging from a dream. He realized he was staring into Thom's mesmerizing green eyes, eyes that were gleaming with joy, saturated with an obvious, burgeoning love for Jake. He glanced around. His new friends, Skater and Surfer, were smiling indulgently, openly watching the two soccer studs fall for each other. Skater absently drew some of his longish dark hair back behind his ear.
“There you are!” Surfer said happily. “Thought you'd drowned in those eyes, dude.”
“Yeah, totally,” echoed Skater, eyeing both of them happily. He seemed—what? Gratified? Excited? Why were the other Dudes so into Jake and Thom getting together?
Jake stood up abruptly, not looking at Thom. He was feeling a little freaked out all of a sudden. “I'll see you guys … later,” he muttered, and, hauling his bookbag over his shoulder, started for the double doors across the crowded room, thinking only of getting to Algebra II and away from—what he'd done. What he could do. It suddenly seemed very frightening that the Dudes believed what he said, and even seemed to derive some kind of thrill from swallowing his lies, unaware he could lie, unaware they were making lies into truth.
I know what you're afraid of, whispered a voice in the back of his head.
Jake shoved the thought aside and pressed through a bottleneck crowd at the door into the teeming hallway. He felt a hand on his thick shoulder and turned. It was Thom. His bright green eyes were boring into him, love mixed with confusion at his brusque departure.
“Jake, man, are you okay?” Thom said softly, barely audible above the noise of the yammering, phoning, texting crowd, his warm hand still on Jake's shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said. He realized Skater and Surfer were there too, hanging back a bit behind Thom, but still listening.
Thom seemed satisfied, and Jake was starting to turn away, but then Thom said, “Jake, I gotta ask you. Is Stu—are you—?”
Jake shook his head quickly. “No, dude,” he said. Shit, now they've got me saying it. “There's nothing between Stu and me.” Thom stared into Jake's eyes, only partially relieved. Skater and Surfer exchanged glances. Jake's mind raced. Maybe a positive works better than a negative, he thought frantically. “Besides,” he went on, “Stu's not even into me. He's into … um, Armand,” he added lamely. “And it's totally mutual.”
Relief flooded Thom's face. Jake felt a surge of—love? passion?—deep inside him and placed his left hand around the back of Thom's strong neck. “You're the one I want,” he said, glad he could tell him something true. Thom grinned toothily and Jake drew him in for a quick kiss, eliciting a shower of wolf-whistles from the milling crowd.
Jake broke the kiss and grinned too, sensing the other Dudes' elation without looking at them. “We'll be late for class.” He turned and headed down the hall, Thom falling in beside him, the other two close behind.
Thom was still grinning. “I almost feel bad for Armand,” Thom was musing.
“Yeah, dude,” came Skater's voice from right behind them, “that is one freaky cock.”
“I've never seen a cock even approaching that size,” Thom said, his smile fading a little, clearly thinking back on all the ordinary cocks he'd seen in the locker room.
Oh shit, Jake said. Are they starting to doubt? I can't let them realize there's magic or whatever going on. They'll figure out I've been telling them shit—manipulating them—damn, Thom will hate me.
“Sure—sure you have,” Jake stammered.
“What do you mean?” Thom asked, turning to look at him innocently as they walked.
Oh god. “Um, I mean he's huge yeah, but not that much more than everyone else at this school,” Jake said, wincing as he heard the word. They weren't convincing, he could hear the quaver in his voice. He and Thom stopped, facing each other, Skater and Surfer right beside them, as the crowd flowed around them. Jake could see confusion in Thom's eyes. Shit, I could ruin everything if I fuck this up. I gotta sell this. Details—I gotta give 'em details, the whole story.
“Listen,” he said confidentially, the others leaning in like initiates to a conspiracy. “You can't tell anyone about this.” They nodded, willing to be reeled in, waiting on Jake's words. “My—my uncle Roderick has been investigating this for years, he works for the FBI,” Jake explained, wondering if he'd like the uncle he'd never had before now. “I heard he was looking into stuff that happened here at the school asked him a string of questions, hounded him really, wouldn't let him alone. Finally I cornered him at Thanksgiving.” Thom and the others were watching him wide-eyed, absorbing every word. The crowd had thinned dramatically—the bell would ring any minute.
Quickly, Jake picked up his story, trying to sound amazed. “He admitted to me that the Army had this totally top secret thing going on here in the 90s, Uncle Rod couldn't even get the whole dossier. It's super secret, no one outside the program even knew about it. Anyway, they had a top secret virility drug, called, um, Adamantine 17. The guy who invented it, this strange genius guy called, um, Dr. Kelso, said that if you infuse kids with it as they're going through puberty, they'll get stronger, have more endurance. So they dosed the milk at the Junior High school. And the water fountains. Then they expanded to the grade school, too, just to be sure.”
“Fuck, dude,” said Surfer breathed. “What did it do to us?”
What do I say? Gotta sell it. Cock couldn't be the only outcome. “Well, it pretty much worked, didn't it? I mean, we're all pretty strong, right? It may feel normal to us, but trust me, we're all, like, twice as strong as ordinary teens—I saw the numbers in Uncle Rod's report.” Jake felt the bizarre sensation of his muscles suddenly becoming (always having been) huge, Thom and the others looking massive even as they stared at him engrossed in his story. No! Too visible to outsiders, gotta dial back! Hurriedly he went on, “I mean, our muscles are super dense—they're not that much bigger than normal, right? But we're all buff and none of us has more than the tiniest amount of body fat.” Jake saw his friend's bodies shift from bodybuilder to fitness model and breathed a sigh of relief, though he was now becoming distracted by the perfect, round pecs straining Thom's tee shirt. And his luscious, bulging shoulders. And those long, thick arms—Why did I start this story? Oh, yeah. “And then there's the side-effect the Army guys never saw coming—huge cocks. So you see, Stu's just the biggest, but all the boys in this school are packing twice as much as other guys our age. At minimum. And some are almost as big as Stu.”
Oh shit, Jake said to himself as he felt the uncanny weight of a massive, Snapple-bottle-thick cock in his jeans. Geez, guys, I didn't mean me! Um, thanks, I guess.
The bell rang shrilly, startling Jake as always. He leaned in for a swift, eagerly reciprocated kiss from his newly hunkier boyfriend—boyfriend? Boyfriend. He felt his monster cock twitching halfway down his baggy jeans. Okay, this is going to be surreal. He glanced at Surfer and Skater, who were watching their kiss with rapt attention. Before, he'd felt strange about their intense interest in him and Jake, but now he felt oddly touched. He drew them all into a hug, feeling their strong arms wrap around him and each other, hands running across each other's broad backs, and Jake, sighing deeply and gratefully releasing his stress, pledged to himself that that was the last credulous magic he'd do for a long time.
Thom and his two friends hurried off toward their classes, Thom jogging backwards a ways so that he could smile brilliantly at Jake, the other two grinning companions starting to melt away into the periphery as Jake absorbed his boyfriend’s simple, pure beauty. Then Thom turned and Jake got his first glimpse of the back he’d just been caressing—long and wide at the top, with luscious lats tapering in dramatically under Thom’s loose but now revealingly thin, almost gauzelike light blue tee shirt, to a provocatively narrow waist. And that ass—looking lacked into even loose-cut jeans Thom was wearing, the most delicious-looking firm round ass Jake had ever seen. And long, perfect, soccer star legs, the legs of a soccer god, only hinted at under the thick denim and yet as clear to Jake as if Thom’s rapidly retreating form was naked, a boy possessed of a body so perfect that he was allowed—no, required—to attend to school naked, as a lesson in idealized anatomy and a exemplar for students of the ancient world of how the Greeks must have imagined their gods.
Even more intoxicating than than that fleeting fantasy was the though that—with a few words to his friends—Jake could make that a reality. He could suggest that Thom always went naked and everyone was okay with it, especially Thom—the school would even believe the pretext about studying his anatomy if he convinced the Dudes. The thought flooded him, arousing him almost to the point of unreason, and he took a step forward to follow the boys, to tell them this, to make that reality—and caught himself, amazed and awed at the power he could wield if he wanted.
Then Thom was gone and Jake realized he was standing in a classroom doorway, staring down an empty hall, his shuddering half-hard monster cock drooling down the side of his right shin and testing the seams of his extra-wide jeans with its prodigious girth all along its impossible length. He realized he was panting, open-mouthed. The skin all over his body was feeling tight and warm as if he were himself expanding from erotic stimulation.
“Joining us, Jake?” The voice was soft, a friendly baritone, and accompanied by a few barely audible snickers.
Jake turned around, startled and ashamed that he’d been caught losing track of where he was because his boyfriend was mind-numbingly hot. The classroom door was toward the front of the classroom, and right in front of him was their handsome English teacher, Mr. Yung. He was standing by the blackboard, paused in the act of writing something, watching Jake, not smiling but still amused.
But Jake’s eyes slid off Mr. Yung toward the thirty teenagers in the room, suddenly feeling the full thrust of their stares. All of them—the boys and the girls alike—were riveted. They’d been staring at his hard round muscle ass, Jake knew, and now that he’d turned around they were staring at his unnaturally large cock, even more impossible to miss now that it was mostly hard, a lump the size of a ferret throbbing, not unpainfully, against the straining fabric of his right pants leg.
But Jake barely took note of the spectacle he was causing. He was staring back. Jake hadn’t quite registered just how sweeping a change he’d made, telling that recklessly made up story to Thom and the other Dudes in the hallway. He’d wanted to just create a plausible backstory for Stu’s arm-sized foot-and-a-half-long phone pole of a cock. But without even intending to he’d subjected all the kids in town to an experiment in strength, muscle, and cock growth.
The boys in the room filled Jake’s vision. Jake realized with a sick sensation that he hadn’t just turned everyone into jocks. It wasn’t that everyone got an upgrade so much as that in his entire high school population, jock bodies were now the norm. If everyone had just been made buff overnight, then there’d be lots of tight shirts and showing off—excitement at being elevated specimens of the human form. But boys who, had they looked like they did now, would have been self-consciously hot model-gorgeous hunks “yesterday”—meaning Jake’s yesterday, before he’d changed everyone’s childhood—just had the clothes and body language of ordinary guys, the unnoticed masses.
To say that everyone was muscular hardly begins to describe what Jake was experiencing. Muscle was the new ordinary. It was more than that. Everyone was tall, lanky, muscular, tight, gorgeous, radiating sexuality, cranked up to 11 in hormones and hotness. Every guy in the room was literally unstoppably, magnetically attractive—Jake wanted to move toward them, and he had actually taken a few steps without realizing. Every lightly stubbled jaw cried out to be licked and sucked on, every slightly parted mouth was lush and hot and screaming to be kissed hard and deep, every gorgeous face demanded to be covered in hot coats of cum.
Their eyes were shining, supernaturally alert and aware of Jake’s raw sexuality. Jake didn’t realize that he was even hotter—it was still hidden from him that not just his cock but his whole being had been pushed a few stages beyond the ordinary, crack-addiction-compelling beauty of the other boys. They were drawn to him, pulled mercilessly toward him, even more than he was to them. Several of the boys were rising out of their seats, moving toward him down the aisles, barely aware of what they were doing. Thick, wide boners were already shoving up out of the waists of their jeans or pushing out their pockets, sticking out at an angle, the wide heads and upper shafts wrapped in soft white cotton.
As a cluster of ten or more of the hottest guys started to form around him, their gorgeous, perfect young faces becoming all Jake could see, Jake heard the voice of Mr. Yung—barely audible over the rush of his blood and the pounding of his heart—break in one more time. “Jake,” the teacher said, “try to make it quick this time. I don’t want to lose the whole period like I did yesterday.”
Jake was starting to freak out. He was surrounded by strong broad-shouldered men mindless with lust, their eyes burning with a roaring animal fire, their thick muscles bristling with strength, their throbbing cocks all pounding for his body, and Jake was close to panicking. This was so hot it was beyond hot, it was out of control. This pack of wolves was enthralled by him, but there was no telling what they would do in their uncontrollable lust. He looked around frantically at the glassy eyes –
His mind lit up with a succession of radical ideas. He looked around at the pack closing around him, already reaching out and groping his bod, clawlike hands pulling at his shirt. He willed himself to speak calmly and clearly.
“Guys, stop,” he said. And they did.
They were all close around him, close enough that he felt warm from the heat of all their thick, bulging bodies. They panted, their eyes all riveted on him.
“Just—simmer, okay? Like—like we always do.” Jake’s heart pounded hard, like it wanted out of his chest. Would this work?
“We keep it in our pants at school, remember?” Jake said, looking around and meeting each gaze he could. He wasn’t even sure this was working—they were all still just staring at him—but bizarrely, as if his brain was racing ahead of his own train of thought, he suddenly wondered what was happening in the rest of the school. He knew with preternatural clarity that his cock was just the start of his superior beauty but also the symbol of it. And he wasn't alone. Stu, at least, was as hung as he was or more so—were they all clawing at him somewhere else in the building?
He took a deep breath. “All of us, the whole school. I know we’re all super-hot muscle hunks, right, with these overblown libidos. But we control it, right? We can control it easy. We all get hard for each other, I know, really hard, but we all keep it in our pants and just let it—you know—simmer? Like always! Right?” To his relief they started to respond—nods, and smiles, and looks of disappointment. But they were all calmer. Alert, still riveted on him, mesmerized by him, but calmer. And so was Jake. Now that the moment of panic was over he suddenly regretted completely cockblocking himself and everyone else.
In a flash another sudden idea struck him, as if it had been waiting to think of it, and he grinned crookedly. “Just that one kiss, like usual,” he said, and they all grinned back. “One kiss. Per—per class. Like always. And then we all do the, you know, student thing, right?” Seemed fair.
Now aroused but docile, the crowd of students—now the whole class of thirty guys—smiled at him, pairing off to kiss each other one by one as they waited their turn to kiss their alpha boy, Jake.
Jake did a double take. Thirty guys—! He looked around rapidly even as the nearest classmate, Evan Monroe, now much, much hotter than the nerd he’d been yesterday, moved in for a hot twenty-second kiss. His eyes danced around the mouth-sucking crowd. There were no girls. Something in his credulous magic had turned the girls into guys. Smoking hot muscle hunk jock boy guys. Jake started to freak out again, but then he was distracted by Kevin Sullivan, who was an even better kisser than Evan.
After a moment he stopped thinking about credulous magic entirely, forgot that he now had a whole school of Dudes he could convince of any fantasy—in fact, for the moment he forgot about everything but the sheer electric joy of making out with guys, and the heartwarmingly erotic feeling of his own unnaturally huge half-hard cock shifting in his loose jeans. And afterward, as they broke up to resume their seats, Jake reaching his for the first time in what felt like years, he was as content as the rest of them to settle in, simmer, and do the student thing, too.
Jake moved through the writhing, jabbering crowd of hundreds of broad-shouldered, tight-waisted, muscle-butt athletic hunks that filled the corridor almost in a dream. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, only that he was pushing through a fluid, groping mass of raw libido and barely contained sensual obsession. It was like swimming through thick, hormonal passion, as if the very breathable air of the high school had become oversaturated with hard muscle and bright eyes, helpless lust and magnetic beauty, kept in check during class but all the more inclined to boil over in every other situation.
Masses and eddies of lanky, ponderously built teen heartthrobs moved in happy groups of twos and threes or more, arms draped around each others’ thick, bulging shoulders, hands casually, carelessly caressing each others’ pec-filled shirts as they talked and laughed and, especially, gossiped—about who had been seen with whom, and whether the silent farmer’s son in wood shop was hiding a brick-hard ten-pack under the flannels he always wore (“c’mon, no one has a ten pack!”), and if it was true that the shy glasses-wearing bookworm cutie Neil was packing an even bigger monster than the legendary Stu Keller (“no way, no one’s bigger than Stu, man”).
The clusters of unbearably attractive, gorgeously handsome, alluringly proportioned young studs were hugely enjoying the way their big bods were filling up the halls, shoulders and arm and round hard asses all rubbing together as they shifted through the mass of muscle, and they weren’t moving very quickly at all toward their destinations. Jake moved through them slightly impatiently, enjoying at a deep, primal level everyone’s instinctive move to caress his 13 out of 10 hormone-churning bod but increasingly eager to get to someplace, anyplace, that he could let his mostly hard arm-sized cock out of his loose, but still too small, old jeans.
He turned a corner and realized he was very near a boys’ restroom. He broke through a small cluster of five guys, taller than the others (though not quite as tall as Jake had become), who on seeing him revealed a deep need to stroke every square inch of his hard body through his clothes. He pushed past them anxiously into the restroom. “I’ll catch you guys later,” he said over his shoulder, hoping that would placate them, but they grinned widely and followed him straight in, crowding around him, strong hands already mauling his unusually thick and potent shoulders, back, and rock-hard ass.
“Guys, I—really gotta pee,” Jake said as they moved into the bathroom area, his throbbing Mount Olympus cock straining painfully against his once-loose right pant leg. And now that he’d convinced his audience of what he said, whatever he said (thanks to unintended credulous magic), it was true: he really did have to pee, bad. Fuck.
“We know,” said a soft baritone voice at his right. “We want to help.” The others murmured sotto voce assent.
Jake and his admirers halted for a moment as they realized that all three of the urinals were occupied by gorgeous students jacking their liter-bottle-thick, foot-long cocks, hardly aware of the drama behind them. Footlong cocks were normal now, he knew—the average. Jake watched their buttocks clenching as they stroked for a moment, open-mouthed, and it suddenly dawned on him that he’d actually doubled the average cock size in a way he totally hadn’t expected. He’d sort of been thinking he’d doubled everyone’s cock size by sheer mass when he’d said everyone was “packing twice as much as other guys our age,” but one or more of the Dudes, hearing his preposterous story, had taken the six-inch average and just doubled the inches, with proportional width as well, or more—all the cocks he’d seen pushing out of waistbands and pockets were way fat and wide, and the ones he could see here were likewise. And the balls—he guessed it was tough to imagine a baseline of 12-inch fat cocks without softball-sized balls underneath them, not to mention his own balls being bigger than grapefruits, almost as big as Stu’s massive nuts. Enormous cocks … magnetic animal attraction to each other … massive balls churning out way too much testosterone and sperm on top of already overdriven teen libidos—this school was gonna be a nonstop hormone hurricane.
He shook his head to clear it. “C’mon, guys,” he called out in exasperation. The urinal jackers turned and looked at him, startled. “You can’t jack here. Go jack in, uh, the old gym downstairs like everyone else.” No one had used the old gym since the new athletic wing had been built, he knew—though of course yesterday there had been no new athletic wing for this previously not very athletic, and now hyper-energetic, muscle-bulging student body. Now the “old” space had a new purpose.
The urinal jackers sheepishly fumbled to close their jeans around the huge cocks sticking up toward their heavy, out-of-proportion pecs (everybody had significantly bigger pecs relative to the rest of their muscles, Jake had been noticing—including himself) and hustled out of the way. They were eyeing each other now, and Jake suddenly realized the old gym would be a unstoppable fuckfest orgy if he left things the way he had. This credulous magic shit was getting out of control. “Remember,” he added as he moved toward the urinal to deal with his formerly fictitious, now very real need to piss, “no one fucks at school, right? Just jacking. And only in free periods and between classes!” The three miscreants just grinned at him for telling them things everyone knew, like he was some kind of sex hall monitor, and Jake shook his head.
He realized he was still surrounded by the group of five extra-tall dudes who’s followed him in. The soft-spoken boy who’d spoken before now gestured toward the middle urinal. Jake turned to look at him, taking in his particularly cute and sexy face—high cheekbones, bright ice-blue eyes, perfect Nordic features and a loose and copious mop of long blond hair—and suddenly recognized him. “Aidan Fitch?” he said. Aidan had been the star player on the basketball team, and probably still was—though with a strange feeling of unease Jake realized that while he himself was taller than Aidan, taller now than all these basketball hotties who’s been 6’6” or 6’8” yesterday and were probably taller now. How tall are they? How tall am I? he wondered in aroused awe.
Aidan beamed at being recognized by alpha dog Jake and somehow took this as an invitation to steal a deep, 20-second kiss of the kind Jake had recently established as the opening exercise for each and every class period. It was probably the opening move to a lot of interactions among the boys now, the equivalent of a slap on the shoulder or a head-bob hello. Jake leaned into the kiss—Aidan’s soft bristle excited him, and his tongue was long and hot—as Jake felt the hunk’s powerful hand wrap around his long, muscular neck.
At some level Jake realized that Aidan was deeply attractive to him at an orders of magnitude beyond the rest of the school’s population of 11 out of 10 hunky jocks. Aidan was an alpha in his own right, and it was messing with Jake’s head in a serious way. He intensified the kiss and they both moaned, and the surrounding crowd got even more aroused at the sight of the two of them together.
Suddenly Jake, flushed from the unexpected erotic moment, broke the kiss and whispered, impulsively, in Aidan’s ear, “Your tongue is so amazing, it must be the longest in the school. Fuck, in the state.” By way of response—and before a hormone-flushed Jake could rashly blurt out even broader parameters for the superlative—Aidan brought his face right back in front of Jake’s and grinned even wider before burying what was now a much longer, hotter tongue deep into Jake’s warm, eager mouth, even as the other basketball team members—for that is who they were, Jake now understood—closed in around them and sensuously and aggressively groped them both from all sides.
But after a moment Jake broke the kiss. “I really do have to pee,” he said quietly with a small shamefaced grin, his face millimeters away from Aidan’s, their lips brushing as he spoke. They both grinned, and suddenly Jake felt the other boys’ efforts shift toward unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning the waist on his jeans—having correctly determined that the only way to free Jake’s unnaturally huge beast was to drop the pants to the floor, which they did.
It occurred to Jake that he could solve one of his problems, at any rate, even as his mostly hard cock lifted up and more or less aimed itself toward the urinal, two feet away, rising between Aidan’s jeans-clad, perfectly proportioned thighs. And his company was his inspiration. Getting rid of these painfully restricting jeans would make his life so much easier, and probably all his other cock-augmented schoolmates, most of whom were 12 inches or bigger now, with balls to match. “Sure is a good thing they let us all wear basketball shorts,” he whispered conversationally to Aidan, as his cock got fully hard, sticking straight out from his body like a wide, extra-long aircraft carrier, pushing apart Aidan’s muscular legs a bit with its mighty girth, the tip just brushing the cold porcelain of the urinal surface directly in front of him. “If I had to wear jeans to school I’d be really uncomfortable the second I got at all hard.”
And then he sensed an imperceptible shift—and grinned: the cool fabric of Aidan’s own basketball shorts was now draped across his own unnaturally huge cock—was it, was it really two feet long now? How big did that make Stu?
Shit, are we all still being dosed with that growth shit I made up? Are we still growing??
But Jake was distracted by Aidan’s own oversized member, which was sticking straight up out of the basketball shorts, held against Aidan’s thin, dark, cum-stained tee-shirt by the shorts’ wide waistband elastic, the head pushing hard against Aidan’s heavy, melon-sized left pec. Aidan’s cock was kinda flat and provocatively wide—Jake stared at it even as he suddenly let go with a pounding flood of urine so powerful he wondered if he had to fear for the integrity of the porcelain—Aidan’s luscious cock, sticking up and throbbing and drooling, had to be 16 inches long and at least six inches wide.
Jake felt his mouth go a little dry even as his bladder seemed to unleash gallons of torrential urine: he was fixated on Aidan, his irresistible beauty, the fact that he was straddling Jake’s monster, lightly flexing his thighs against it, as Aidan himself shifted a touch closer, his long, muscular arms wrapping slowly around Jake’s torso, his warm, stubble-lined lips finding Jake’s erogenously vulnerable neck.
Jake was dimly aware of all the others in the bathroom, all clad in basketball shorts, all with thick, hard footlong boners sticking up from the two-inch elastic waistbands holding them in place—the normal way to deal with a boner now, he knew at some level far from his sensual contact with Aidan. Not just the other extra-tall, extra-lanky team members, but many others as well, who’d been in the bathroom without Jake noticing or who’d followed them in, dozens of horny, magnetically hot jocks gathered around Jake and Aidan, groping them, kissing them, getting off on the couple’s combined erotic potency. Even as Jake’s yellow stream finally subsided and stopped, he started to feel multiple hands on his arm-like shaft, sticking out from between Aidan’s fantastic legs and ass, and Jake suddenly realized he was only now getting hard—really hard, truly hard. His cock was stiffening more and growing bigger and harder and stronger. Aidan started flexing his hard leg muscles against Jake’s even harder cock.
Aidan might have been an alpha dog among his own group, but now he was staring into Jake’s eyes with awe and longing and a slight edge of glad submission. He moved to embrace Jake as he felt Jake’s growing, hardening cock between his legs. “Oh god,” Aidan breathed against Jake’s neck. He was now pressed hard against Jake, his own obscenely beautiful, double-wide cock pounding against Jake’s granite abs, his thick chest muscles mashed against Jake’s bigger, stone-hard pecs, his long arms wrapped around Jake and stroking his torso as if he were a cock, his warm lips and hot overlong tongue tracing heart-thumpingly stimulating lines along Jake’s neck. Only the toes of Aidan’s sneaker-clad feet were touching the ground as giant Jake’s shuddering, steel-hard but still-hardening cock just managed to lift the towering, muscle-heavy basketball star. All around them strong hands and mouths and even cocks lovingly massaged Jake and Aidan together, as if they were a single, erotic being.
Jake was realizing that he was close to cumming but that Aidan was lost in his enthralled arousal, and suddenly with a piercing shock of guilt cutting through his own hormone-addled mind he realized that he man he wanted embracing him like this was not Aidan. He wanted Thom, badly, and he almost pushed Aidan away—except that thinking of Thom, and how much he wanted him, pushed Jake right to the edge. There was no turning back—he had to cum now. “I have to—we have to cum,” Jake panted in Aidan’s ear. “You gotta cum.”
“Wh-what?” Aidan said dreamily. He was totally overwhelmed by Jake’s alpha erotic power, Jake realized. He clicked his tongue—he was going to blow any second.
“You know we can all control our orgasms, right?” he rasped. “I want you to cum now. Cum with me!” he commanded with a shout, and suddenly he was letting loose with erotic abandon, blasting torrents of hot cum into the urinal, though a lot of it was being intercepted by the mouths and hands and bodies of anyone in the large writing crowd of jock boy hunks who could push their way close enough to Jake’s enormous cock to get some. The whole crowd was moaning and shouting—they were all cumming, dousing Jake and Aidan and each other with gallons of hot sticky cum.
Aidan, his beautiful face flushed and damp, pulled back enough to look down at his own 16-inch monster and then up at Jake. His eyes were glazed with arousal as he edged his own orgasm, even as he felt Jake blasting between his flexing legs. “Take it!” he panted urgently, nodding down at his cock.
Jake, unable to speak, shook his head. If he’d been at all capable of forming words he’d have said that he’d only swallow Thom’s cock from now on, and (he’d have immediately added) his own, but all he could do was push Aidan’s head down onto his own cock. But Aidan seemed to understand and, taking his hands off Jake’s broad back, he wrapped his mouth and both fists around his superwide monster cock and immediately started cumming as hard as Jake.
Jake bolted from the bathroom, glad the hallways were mostly empty (the bell for seventh period having rung, barely noticed, at some point during his encounter with Aidan and the others). He ignored the jock boys who moved toward him from their lockers, drawn to the massively thick still-hard two-foot boner standing straight up under his tee.
At least he wasn’t still covered with cum—everyone else’s cum. As he’d pulled out from between Aidan’s legs and realized his shirt and shorts were soaked in the flood of cum from the other b-ball dudes and the rest of the crowd of 20 or more guys they’d attracted, and that his body, face, and hair were coated with the spunk of two dozen hormone-saturated hunks (who were probably ready to go again by the time he was finished blowing his own massive wad, as, for that matter, he was as well), he’d thought up and discarded two or three ways to deal with the massive amounts of cum the whole school full of overaroused jock boys would blow every day (every hour?)—Disappearing cum? Too fantastic. Everyone licks up all the cum? Too time-consuming. Cum janitors? Uh, no.—before settling on casually expressing gratitude to his audience that all the bathrooms had bins with ample supplies of big, soft bath towels and fresh tee shirts and b-ball shorts in different sizes and colors.
Now that he was presentable, toweled down (with help from Aidan and the boys, naturally) and wearing a fresh orange school-logo tee stretched over his cock and bulging muscles and white b-ball shorts, the strong elastic holding his mighty cock firmly in place, the only thing he could think of was getting to Thom. He didn’t feel quite as guilty now; he knew Aidan’s alphaness had bewitched him just as his did everyone else’s, and he knew to safeguard himself against that now. But before he did anything else, before anyone else made a move on him and his irresistible body and cock, he had to let Thom know—
Know what? Jake thought to himself, as he rounded the corner to the wing where the new gym was, where he knew Thom and the other Dudes were taking phys ed this period. He hurried to the gym doors and pulled them open, and—there he was.
Two nets had been put up in the gymnasium and the class was divided into teams playing volleyball, the whole lot of them shirtless, their amazing bodies all glistening with sweat and flushed from exertion; but all Jake saw was Thom. He gaped at him, just then making a spike, and grinned, feeling a swell not just of deep arousal but profound love, without bottom, without end. A part of him wanted to question it—had this intense, even obsessive love come about through his magic somehow? Was it real?—but Jake let the thoughts crumble away and vanish. It was real, and whether it was magical or not didn’t matter at all.
Play stammered to a halt as Jake strode into the gym, all eyes drawn to his impossible, excessive beauty and his visible, enormous arousal. They moved toward him as he approached Thom, surrounding them but staying at a respectful distance, their hard footlong or more boners standing straight up out of their elastic waistbands. He was considerably taller than most of them and his cock had everyone beat by a country mile, but Jake didn’t care about any of that or the awe it inspired. He’d recognized, almost peripherally, his other friends in the crowd—Surfer and Skater and QB2 (already looking more bulkily muscular than he had the last time he’d seen him)—but all he wanted to look at was right in front of him.
Thom looked up at him, his green eyes shining, and Jake pulled him into a mighty embrace. Thom laughed as he wrapped his lithe, muscular arms around Jake’s wide torso. He sensed, at a remove, that their crowd of admirers was intertwining too, wrapping bulging arms around thick shoulders or hugging each other from behind as they watched the two lovers.
“Miss me?” Thom said teasingly. Jake smiled and nodded. He dove into a deep kiss that Thom eagerly reciprocated, then broke it to pull back just enough to look into Thom’s bright, admiring, amused eyes.
“I love you,” he said, unable to stop himself grinning.
Thom arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he said, still teasing, settling comfortably into their embrace. Jake felt Thom’s hard 14-inch double-wide cock shoving hard against Jake’s own monster. “What do you love about me?”
“Everything,” Jake said simply. Thom smiled up at him with playful expectation of more and better compliments, and he started to say that Thom was the nicest, sweetest, most wonderful guy to be with—but he stopped himself, knowing with sudden surge of intuition that he could never let his magic touch Thom’s complex and beautiful personality. He loved who Thom was, and he knew instinctively that if he messed around even a little in something so intricate his magic could twist or break what made Thom who he was, maybe beyond recall.
Suddenly his mind flashed on Aidan and the glint of delight at submitting to a bigger alpha he’d seen in his eyes, and Jake grinned back at Thom. “I love your beauty,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful that no one lets you wear clothes. No one wants you to wear clothes.” He licked his lips, aware that Thom’s clothes had vanished, exposing his stunningly beautiful body. He remembered how outrageous that fantasy had seemed only hours ago and knew that now it was not enough. Thom watched him with rapt attention and Jake plunged into making Thom into someone more amazing than himself, hungry to know how that would make him feel. “No one in this school has more beauty than you. Or height, or muscle. Or—or cock. No one.” He swallowed, waiting with anxious anticipation to see what happened.
Between one heartbeat and the next the naked Adonis suddenly became (always had been?) a painfully beautiful Colossus, a foot taller than Jake and two feet taller than the others, his body packed with perfectly shaped yet gargantuan muscle, his pale cock standing unspeakably huge, almost as big around as a normal jock boy’s waist and topping out at Thom’s throat. It was spurting a steady stream of precum. He heard a gasp from crowd—either Skater or Surfer, Jake thought in the back of his mind.
Jake wanted to drink in his lover’s uncanny new form, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Thom’s.
Thom, too, was still gazing hard at Jake, his green eyes seeming almost like they were actually shining. Jake gulped, and Thom smiled boyishly.
“No one,” Thom said, “except you.”
Jake gasped at the unexpected turn and opened his mouth to object, but the thing was—he believed him.
So he sighed and, shoving his forehead-high, leg-thick permaboner out of the way, bent down to give Thom a kiss so deep and intense that supposedly (according to later gleeful reports from the other Dudes) they both unknowingly came five or six times before the bell rang its usual sudden, jarring alarm, signaling at long last the end of another school day.
Jake leaned against the tiled hallway wall next to Thom’s school locker feeling a little overwhelmed. The way the faint chill of the ceramic tile in the over-air-conditioned South Hall seeped through the thin fabric of his school-branded tee and basketball shorts onto his sculpted back and hard, round ass grounded him a little, but only because in that moment the coolness of the tile felt like one of the few real things in a world that had gotten very weird, very fast.
He wasn’t quite sure what to think about what had happened to his body.
It wasn’t just that he was tall now, taller than anyone he’d ever known by a country mile. The milling crowd of uncannily gorgeous muscle-hunks and model-hot beauties that now constituted the student body of Millard Fillmore High, giving them both appreciative caresses and awestruck stares as they broke and surged around them in affectionate, intertwined clusters of two or three (or more) on their way to after-school activities that almost certainly would create enough erotic charge and carnal stimulation to power a medium-sized country, was impressively tall—the average was probably 6’6”, Jake guessed—and yet he was pretty sure that the tallest of them, not counting Thom, would only come up to the hard, pebbled nips that were making little bumps in the thin, soft tee despite pointing downward a bit from his oversized pecs. Right now, even Aidan, the basketball team captain who’d cornered him in the bathroom, would have to stand on his tiptoes just to lick and suckle Jake’s hard, pert nipples.
And it wasn’t just that he was big, with a body wider and thicker than he could ever have dreamed of. He hadn’t just stretched up from his old height of 6’1” to what had to be a whole half a person taller than that. He’d scaled up. His proportions were the same as they were before, and people had remarked on how he was “broad-shouldered cuss” back when he first started at his old high school as a skinny freshman, three years before transferring to a new town and Fillmore at the start of his senior year after his dad changed jobs. He’d been called tall then, for a freshman—tall and “rangy,” according the assistant basketball coach that had tried unsuccessfully to get him to try out for the team back at Eastside High. Now, though… Jake could feel the strength and power of thick, heavy muscles that had been made huge and beautiful. His broad shoulders were layered with slabs of muscle: thick delts, bulging traps. Heavy pecs so thick his tee shirt, grown to match his size, still strained against them. Upper arms that, if he saw them on another guy, he wouldn’t be able to resist caressing, or grabbing with both hands as they flexed to an unreal size, hard as iron. Abs carved from granite, a ten-pack waiting to be stroked and rubbed, or, Jake thought, to be glistening with sweat and cum. Long, perfect legs that looked like he could sprint from his reclining position and dash tirelessly from here to the ends of the earth and back. An ass he wanted to watch others appreciate, with wide eyes and admiring hands and … other things.
He’d caught a glimpse of his face in the bathroom mirror while he was changing into the fresh school-issued shorts and tee from the bins, before he’d grown, but it had only registered registered afterward in the layer just under his consciousness that he was a bit better-looking than he remembered. It was all very subtle, but the combined effects of the “top secret virility drug” whopper he’d told the Dudes and the “we’re all super-hot muscle hunks” line he’d blurted out to his English class had reimagined Jake as sexier, hotter, and more irresistible even before that last thing in the gym had taken things to a whole new level. His once-ordinary hazel eyes were bright and glinting, with flecks of gold and green that drew him in even to his own reflection. His face was still his own face, but perfected, with exactly the right planes and angles to invite admiration and the temptation to stare in wonder. His pristine skin was a soft, very pale amber and porcelain-smooth, so that even Jake had been moved by an almost irresistible need to lift a hand and touch himself, and seemed in his reflection to be almost glowing with health. His mouth—god, those thick, sweet lips almost pulled him to try to kiss what he saw in that mirror, to brush hot, full, wine-red lips against his own and taste what could only be the most delicious mouth he’d ever seen. Even the dark sandy hair that had always fought everything he’d tried to do with it now fell soft and thick and almost ridiculously sexy, with a sheen Jake had only ever seen in commercials, and natural gold highlights that matched his skin and eyes. Like everything else about him it invited touch, especially as someone had apparently imagined it longer than it had been. Thom, maybe, or what’s his name, Skater—he always wore his dark hair long no matter what. Jake found he liked the way it fell long and loose and never a strand out of place, brushing against his thick traps so that his over-sensitive body had constant stimulation at every slight move and turn of his head.
Jake’s memory flashed on the images of Greek statues and Renaissance evocations of the ideal male form Mr. Kinney had shown in history class, and thought with a quirk of his lips, My body—it’s literally like the body of a god. Sure, his muscles had been more generously slathered on his new body than Michelangelo’s David or all the statues of the exquisite Antinous that the heartbroken Hadrian had commissioned and scattered through the empire, to show all his people the face and form of true beauty. But his muscles were made and shaped as though it only made him more like what beauty was supposed to be. Maybe I’m the fitness model of the gods, Jake mused wryly to himself.
It wasn’t even the other thing that was … big about him, though Jake knew that that was a large part of what had him leaning against the wall here trying to collect himself, as Thom sorted through books and notebooks in his locker and chatted gaily with the other Dudes. His cock—god. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Hell, if it gets any bigger I won’t be able to wrap my arms around it, he thought giddily, feeling just a slight edge of hysteria. The head of it was as big as, well, a head. And it was right … there. In his face. Not exactly in the way, because his enormous, leg-sized permaboner cock had the same slight and gentle curve to the left it had had when it was smaller—and he almost laughed as he remembered “smaller” for him meant the 18 inches it had been earlier in the day. So instead of being right in his face, blocking his vision of anything but his own uncanny erection, it was off to the side just a bit, letting him see the world and the world see him.
And yet—it was hard for him to see anything else, partly because it was hard to feel anything else. The weight was strange and exciting. Its size and heft was palpable, both in his more-than-strong-enough groin and in the gravity that tried with laughable impotence to pull his throbbing supererection down from its rigid perfect vertical—it even pushed a little on his immense left pec, and the feeling of weight and warmth and pressure there was pure pleasure. The sensation of delicious heat that poured off of it was a hundred times more than anything he’d ever felt from a cock, either his own or anyone else’s. But more than all that, more than his height and size and beauty and even his too-amazing cock, there was the arousal.
It manifested physically, in the steady sheen of pre that seeped out of his palm-wide slide and slowly sheeted down the massive, fleshy head and onto the endless expanse of phone-pole thick, red and pink and vein-painted shaft, so that the whole thing glistened alluringly and his shift grew damp where it pushed against his chest. He was sure his basketball-sized nuts, barely contained in the loose shorts from which his colossus erupted, could probably churn out infinite quantities of clear pre and shoot lakes of cum on demand. He knew that hard, erect, aroused—that was his natural state now. Not just because he had more cock and more cum than the whole school, but because he was now not just a sexy man guys wanted. He was a fountain of unlimited, endless arousal. He was saturated with it, every cell trembling with it, but it went even further. He was giving it off in waves. Everyone around him, everyone who experienced him, who felt his physical allure even without the intoxication of actually touching him, they were all flooded head to toe to cock with raw, carnal stimulation. Everyone got hard around him—he hadn’t seen a soft cock since he and Thom had left the gym; but that was the least of it. He inflamed them. Even as the crowds around him they felt his overbearing potency, steeping them in sexual want and reforging them in bonfires of need, and they expended their lust on each other, groping and feeling and kissing towering, weeping footlong cocks. They were aware it was because of him, though most expended their lust on each other, and only the boldest moved around him, letting their hands and shoulders and bodies brush and rub against him and each other as he stood against the wall, looming over them, inciting them with wave upon wave of the animal passion that radiated ceaselessly from him. He had a sway over them, he knew, and if he focused his own arousal he bet he could probably make all these guys shift from gentle groping and friendly kissing to screaming, primal fucking.
This is all too much, Jake thought suddenly. I don’t need to be this big, this beautiful. It’s too weird being a sex god. I love it, yeah, of course. But it so weird. He pressed his hands against the cool tile behind him, trying to steady himself. I—I can go back, right? He thought anxiously. I should go back. The credulous magic bullshit—all he had to do was tell the guys … what? Tell them what? That they had imagined him like this? That they had imagined all of this—the school full of superhunks, the wild libidos, Jake’s alpha domination, and an ability to get them to believe anything that was so pure it could shift reality? And then he remembered Thom. Thom’s eyes, eyes that were shining with excitement, arousal, and something far deeper and more profound. And the words he’d said. Jake had told Thom that no one in school was bigger or more beautiful or more blessed with cock than Thom. And Thom had smiled and stared back at him and said: “No one … except you.” Those were Thom’s words. Thom’s words. And Jake—Jake fucking believed them.
Green eyes appeared in his vision, derailing all his wandering thoughts. A beautiful face, even before it had become the most beautiful in the school. A perfect man, too beautiful for clothes, cut and carved and muscled like the raw personification of sex, like a tool that had been crafted by beings beyond our understanding to drive all men to cum-spitting ecstasy just at the sight of him, the sensing of his nearby warmth, the possibility of touch, the communication of arousal. His throat-high, torso-obscuring cock streamed out thick, hot precum as this dream, this vision, stared up at his lover, his boyfriend, his one and only man. He had no clothes—just a small-looking backpack slung over one sun-bronzed, brawny shoulder. Jake swallowed, overcome with love and and an almost desperate desire.
“I’m ready to go,” Thom said, in a soft husky voice that made Jake’s leg-sized dick jump against him. Jake’s mind tingled, and his inner sarcastic bastard woke up long enough for him to snark inwardly, You sure are. He kind of liked that sarcastic bastard—it was the same troublemaker that had kind of started all this off by mocking the clueless jocks who had seemed to attach themselves to him from day one at his new school, sharing his classes and crowding around him after school and even showing up for all the practices and games he and Thom had had so far. Making themselves his friends whether he’d wanted them or not. It didn’t seem so bad, now, being around these guys.
As he stared back down at Thom, once just the teammate he’d teasingly thought of Jockboy, now much more, Jake indistinctly noted the other Dudes—thick-muscled QB2, lean, dark-haired Skater, and his slightly taller blond buddy, Surfer—crowding close behind Thom. Jake was amused to see QB2 looking up at him with something like awe, apparently barely noticing how Skater and Surfer were sandwiching him, playfully embracing each other around him and languidly making out over the football player’s massive tanned shoulder.
Jake gazed into Thom’s beautiful, emerald-green eyes and licked his lips, smiling slightly. He felt arousal escalate in him like a tropical storm working to rev itself up into a hurricane. Around them, the churning masses of boyflesh started to react to Jake and Thom’s encounter. They were already kissing and casually groping as they moved through the hall, but now they slowed and stopped, devoting all their energies to passion. Shirts were gently shucked, shorts cast aside, strong hands and sweet mouths were everywhere on handsome faces and hard, thick muscles and shuddering, aching cocks. Behind Thom the Dudes were comfortably grinding together, and now the redheaded quarterback was finally joining into the fun his buds had started, kissing Skater’s neck as he fondled his ass; but his slightly dazed eyes still strayed up to admire Jake’s towering presence.
Jake, though, could barely see anyone but his jock godhunk lover. He cleared his throat and spoke. “We don’t have practice today,” he said—a reminder, and a question. His rich-timbered baritone, though not very loud and not really much deeper than it had been, nonetheless sent moans through the mass of intertwining hunks, and even Thom closed his eyes for just a second as Jake’s words passed over him. But when they opened, they fixed on Jake with an almost predatory gaze.
“Your place?” Thom almost growled. Two words, and Jake was done for. It was kind of a thrill that Thom was more aggressive than Jake had ever guessed he’d be, and a matching animal instinct flared in Jake in response. He gathered his eight-foot-tall nude Adonis into his arms and stooped to kiss him hard, feeling himself sloshed with an ocean of aching need. He pressed their godly bodies and limb-sized cocks together, hands roaming Thom’s sculpted back and firm, muscled ass, reveling in his perfect, nude body, loving his firm, heated flesh in his big hands as he deepened the kiss, filling Thom’s mouth with his long, huge tongue. He could feel Thom’s arousal spike, his flesh heating as he ground against Jake and mashed mouths with him hungrily, and the grunts and moans of the kissing, writhing, fucking mob of superhunk men filling the hallway, pressing against them from all sides, wild with the arousal Jake and Thom were pouring through them, were only feeding Jake’s own increasingly urgent need.
He wrapped his meaty right hand around Thom’s massive precum-slick dick, as much as it would go—he thought even two hands wouldn’t meet around that huge pillar of cock—and started moving his hand up and down the slippery, steel-hard shaft. Thom groaned into their kiss and Jake felt him move his hands from where they were appreciating Jake’s massive upper arms and grasp the sides of Jake’s furnace-hot, equally slippery erection. Throats all through the hallway opened with cries of ecstasy as the whole crowd’s arousal ramped even further. Other hands groped him, stroked him, rubbed his balls and ass and legs and pecs, though the nips seemed to be off limits to anyone but Jake’s lover, and Jake was truly aware only of Thom’s mouth, Thom’s hands, Thom’s body and cock mashed against his as he held them hard and close. He found himself wanting Thom to be able to kiss him and jack him and twist his nips and everything else, all at once.
And, almost without warning, the escalation of arousal was suddenly more than even their alpha, even the giant towering over them, could bear, and his orgasm jumped and shoved him over into infinity, and even as he felt Thom’s shared ecstasy well up unstoppably within him too they exploded together, their bodies erupting, and the same orgasm flooded the surging crowd like a tsunami, so that the gallons of hot cum Jake and Thom rained down on them over and over again was mixed and smeared into the cum and sweat and yells and cries of a throng of gorgeous, overstimulated men. Jake, hot and flushed and still flying with the most intense orgasm of his life, drew Thom into a sweaty, cum-soaked hug, and felt his shorter lover gladly reciprocate, resting his head against the mass of Jake’s right pec. Over the general murmuring and slow kissing of the rest of the guys filling the hallway, drunk with infinite afterglow, Jake heard Thom humming contentedly to himself and smiled. Thom’s head against his chest made Jake think of his neglected nips again. He’d have to figure out a way for Thom to be able to take care of those even while he was working Jake’s mighty cock. He raised a big hand a brushed it rhythmically across his lover’s dark, buzzed-cut hair, loving the feel of the expanse of short, soft follicles as they rubbed and shifted against his palm.
Over Thom’s shoulder he caught sight of the other three Dudes. QB2 looked a little out of it, probably because Surfer’s thick cock was apparently still buried in his ass. They all looked sated, which was why Jake was caught by surprise when Skater, turning to look up at them over his shoulder and then back at his buddies, grinned and said in a cheery voice, “Dudes, I don’t know about you guys, but I am still horny as fuck.”
Jake laughed, and just as much as laughing he enjoyed the feel of Thom’s sleepy chuckle against his chest, and the ripple of snickers that washed through the shifting man-crowd around them.
Though he’d been living here a few months this was the first time he’d brought any friends over to their new house, and Jake was glad to have the transition time of walking home as he thought about recent events. Though in the past he’d driven it most of the time, it was actually only a twenty-minute walk to Jake’s house… which was a good thing, since he was now, he realized with a pang of regret, too big to drive his beloved truck. He would have to be transported in the back of his own pickup truck from now on. Which was kind of awesome, he thought, letting his mind drift. His permaboner gave a twitch as he imagined what it would look like: a giant man reclining languidly in the bed of his old red pickup, his gorgeous face and huge muscles and enormous cock catching every eye as they drove around to school, the store, to the scenic overlook where everyone went to get it on. Maybe Thom would be back there too, one size smaller than him but still huger than most, and they could casually canoodle as they tooled through town, being driven around by—whom? The other three Dudes, crowded together in the front seat? His suddenly real brother Kevin? Maybe he’d hire a driver out of the pile of lottery money he’d convinced the Dudes he’d won. That thought caused him to give himself a derisive smirk. Although—hmmm.
At the moment they were walking, anyway. Jake had his arm slung around his boyfriend’s broad shoulders and was trying to take short strides so the Dudes could keep up, his heavy cock still so hard it barely moved as he loped down the sun-dappled sidewalk, and Thom’s arm was curled around his waist. He had half-expected the whole school to follow the five of them, given almost irresistible magnetic effect he and Thom seemed to have on his hunky schoolmates. But as he looked back he just saw a large group of guys near the entrance watching them go with big smiles on their faces, still clustered in mutually appreciative groups of two or three (or more). A couple of them were openly jacking just to the sight of Jake and, Jake thought, Thom in particular, who looked stunning as the warm, bright afternoon sun danced over his naked, perfect body. He thought he spotted Adrian and his gang in the crowd, the basketball star waving at him with the hand that wasn’t stroking his buddy’s fat cock. Then he noticed Stu Keller leaning against the school’s dark brick wall, nonchalantly self-sucking his extra-thick, enormous boner. He met Jake’s gaze and winked, and Jake grinned, slightly bemused, and turned back to his own posse.
They were quiet for a while as they passed through the leafy streets near the school, heading for Jake’s house. Then Surfer spoke up unexpectedly. “Dude, you have a brother, right? Is he going to be home?” he asked, looking up from his casual groping of QB2’s thick chest with one hand, the other arm thrown around the quarterback’s shoulders. Skater had his arm around Surfer from the other side, and was using his free hand to absently maul what had to be a well-above-average 15-inch boner through the fabric of his tee-shirt. Had he been that hung before? He kind of wished he could see what the other guys’ dicks had looked like hard before footlong became the new normal.
Jake remembered Surfer’s question. Kevin. His insatiably randy brother Kevin had been crowded to the back of his mind by the day’s events, but he’d just imagine him, gleefully driving him around in the red pickup Jake was now too big for. The brother that hadn’t even existed a few days ago, and now—he realized Kevin hadn’t actually seen him like this yet. Or maybe he had, in this reality? Either way the hormone-flooded Kevin was bound to react to Jake’s new body with—well, Jake didn’t even know what to expect.
“Yeah,” he told them, nodding. “He should be home.” A way to divert Kevin’s attention away from his way-way-big brother occurred to him suddenly. He smiled and went on playfully, “He should be very happy to see you guys. He’s seen you before at the games, though he’s been too shy to meet you.” He paused, and added confidentially, “I think he has a … thing for seeing you three together.”
“Dude, no way!” Skater said excitedly. Apparently he’d not been aware Jake had a brother, let alone one that enjoyed sneaking over to his brother’s high school soccer games to ogle Jake’s buddies. “What is—” he started to ask.
“Is he as big as you?” QB2 broke in, much to Jake’s amusement.
Before Jake could answer, though, Thom jumped in. “Bigger,” Thom assured them. Jake glanced down at him on surprise. “Well, he is!” Thom insisted, eyes glinting.
Jake looked up again and nodded again, more slowly this time. It was true. In at least one respect, Jake admitted to himself, Kevin was definitely bigger than him. He took one more look at the guys. QB2 was gaping, mind apparently blown at the idea of someone who was somehow bigger than Jake, and the others were smiling, pressing the three of them closer together.
Jake shook his head and turned back to the wide, mostly empty sidewalk ahead of them. It was a little surreal, he thought, squeezing Thom’s sweetly muscled shoulder as they headed home, enjoying the cool afternoon breeze and the caress of each other’s hands on their warm, well-scrubbed skin. A lot of things in his world had gone off the charts, and it wasn’t just himself and his enormous cock and his unstoppable libido. A lot of things were changing, and not all of it they way he’d intended when he’d started with this wild credulous magic. He wondered just exactly what lay in store for them tonight—and in the days to come.