Brandon Twice
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King-Sized
🕑 Added 2022-08-16 06:36:07 +0000 UTC[muscle theft, role reversal, puppification]
Friday nights at the club are usually busy but boring (until 3 AM when I have to start dragging too-drunk muscle queens out the door). That night was no different; I was practically asleep on my feet, despite the bass of the electronic music thumping in my chest, until the massive guy ran by.
Dude was HUGE, a true freak. Guys get into bodybuilding so young nowadays that by the time they’re 21 years old they’ve been on Tren for half a decade and they take growth hormone more regularly than they floss. This guy was a full head taller than my 6’1” and HUGE, a massive pile of hairless muscles. (I tell ya, I like my beef with a little fur, but these bodybuilders like to be marble smooth. Can’t win ‘em all.)
I had to really check myself when I realized he was coming FROM the bathroom. How did I not notice this massive roidmonster lumbering past when he went in? He was only wearing a backwards baseball cap and some pink short-shorts that had actually split up the back. I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or just because he had two big fucking watermelons back there. Wouldn’t have killed him to go a size larger, in my opinion, and still show off that booty.
I couldn’t tell if it was just the fog coming from the machines on the dance floor getting in my eyes or what, but that big buffalo looked like he was actually CRYING. Good god, did I not want anything to do with the drama that Mr. King-Sized had himself wrapped up in, but if he started stomping around or shoving, I knew I would have to take the big guy down.
I got on my ear-piece and radioed my staff. “Anybody else see that big muscle freak run by?”
“Thirsty bitch.” It was Donny, my assistant, that little shit. He was working the front door.
“Fuck you, little-dick,” I said. “Guy that guy gets upset, it takes three of us to get him out of here.”
“What big muscle freak?” It was Tim, another of my bouncers. I think I had him patrolling the basement bar, where things tend to get a little kinky.
I looked around the club. Couldn’t see him. “Pink shorts. Backwards baseball cap. I think it had the, y’know, the Flash symbol on it.”
“Oh, do you mean ‘Shazam’?” Tim’s voice was dripping with condescension as usual. Why I don’t fire that little shit…
“Whatever the fuck comic book thing it was,” I said.
“Haven’t seen any big guy wearing that,” Donny said. “But there was a little dude with a big powerhouse of a bear.”
“Not a bear,” I said. “And not a powerhouse. You guys shitting me? Am I not talking English here?”
“I saw those too also,” Tim said. “You might be confused, because the little beta bitch was the one wearing that. The daddy–guy looked fucking 350 or something!--he was wearing a harness and jeans.”
I remembered seeing the big guy in a harness; I made eyes at him. He looked right past me. You can’t help what taste guys have. He seemed to like little fellas. I clearly had too much mass on me. His loss.
That’s when it occurred to me. I saw the little guy he was with–and he was wearing the same hat and shorts (albeit unripped) that I saw on Mr. King-Sized.
“Donny, let me know if you see him walk out the front door,” I said into my earpiece. “I’m doing a sweep on the floor to make sure he didn’t just smoke something that’s gonna make our nights really difficult.”
The place was full of muscleheads that night (good god, the testosterone was coming off them in a FOG) but nobody as massive as Mr. King-Sized. I was about to give up my search when I noticed the emergency door by the utility closet wasn’t closed. I opened it up and there was that gigantic motherfucker, now with more tears in his shorts, pacing up and down the alley out back with tears in his eyes. He held a phone in his shaky hands.
I approached with my arms at my side, big smile on my face, like I could have been his best friend if he wanted. “Hey, Gigantor,” I said kindly. He was breathing heavily, his enormous chest heaving as he worked himself into a real panic attack.
“He’s not… he’s not answering… I can’t find him anywhere!” he whined. That really caught me off guard: a guy who weighs as much as my car was shrieking like a little girl who sat in birdshit.
“It’s all good, buddy,” I said, approaching. I put a hand gently on his back–DAMN, that thing was thick and dense! I had to admit, I was jealous of this guy’s ability to put on size.
“You don’t… you don’t understand! He made him small, and he just… just… took him!” He collapsed into me, and I immediately regretted the heavy deadlifts I’d done before. Big powerhouse almost knocked me over! He sobbed and slobbered into my shoulder and threw his big granite-hard arms around me, squeezing so hard I nearly couldn’t take a breath.
“Easy, King-Sized!” I said. (Nickname had a ring to it.)
Then his shorts finally gave way. All that muscle burst threw those tiny little pants. A HUGE cock flopped out, slapping against my jeans-covered thigh. “Damn,” I said. “Let’s get you inside.”
He stayed connected to me as I gently guided him, like leading a fucking killer whale down a river, toward the rear entry to the employee lounge. I honestly did just want to help this steak-muncher but I didn’t need the shade my security team would throw at me if they saw me carry two-tons of man-meat into a private area.
When King-Sized collapsed into one of the lounge folding chairs, it crumpled like tin foil. I felt like I was breaking a PR just hoisting his big ass up off the ground! I set him in the next chair more gently and then went through the lockers. An extra security shirt tied around his waist was going to have to be enough coverage of that big hog of his.
It’s when he started to tell me what happened that it all fell apart. “We were in the bathroom… and I didn’t even like the guy… but he did something… and switched me and Sir… and he left with him! He left with him…” I saw those massive pecs starting to heave as he started getting himself worked up. “He made me big like this… he made me big…”
It was an easy enough task calling up the security footage to figure out what the hell he was talking about. I dialed it back to just before I first noticed him. Sure enough, the black-and-white overhead camera caught three men going into the room, but none of them was King-Sized.
It was the big grizzly bear powerhouse and the little guy (who was dressed just like King-Sized) along with a sketchy-looking dude, about my age but dressed a little too young in ripped jeans and a tank top. He was in decent shape, but seemed more like an “abs and biceps” kind of gym-goer. He gave the grizzly something to smoke, as well as the little shirtless guy in the baseball cap.
Whatever they smoked made the little guy start to cough. He went into the bathroom stall and closed it while the big guy just leaned back against the sink and enjoyed the high. And then… the big guy wasn’t so big anymore!
I couldn’t believe it. That man looked like he grew up flipping tires and chugging Russian PEDs, thickly built and incredibly rugged with a dick that could win arm-wrestling contests. All that muscle, all that size, just sort of… faded away. He shrank down, looking shocked the whole while, until his jeans fell right off his body.
I paused it there. That had to be impossible, and yet… A quick rewind and I saw the twink in the bathroom stall swelling up with muscle and size until he was Mr. King-Sized. I looked down at the pile of vascular mass before me. He had started sobbing again.
“I got stuck… in the stall…” he whimpered. I hit play on the tape and sure enough, his wide delts got wedge in the narrow stall while the third guy hoisted the shrunken grizzly over his shoulder and darted out the bathroom with him.
“We have to find them!” King-Sized sobbed.
“Okay, okay,” I said. Something was going on–this couldn’t have been possible–but I had to approach this rationally because I couldn’t deny that there was a future Mr. Olympia sitting in front of me who nobody had noticed walking in. “I saw you leave the bathroom,” I said, recounting the events, “but not the other two…” I would have noticed a twink in an over-sized harness getting carried away.
“There’s an emergency exit back there,” I said. “That goes back out to the alleyway…”
I charged out the door, hustled through the back deck and found the door they must have escaped out. King-Sized was right behind me, wiping away snot but looking powerful enough to rip a telephone pole out of the ground. It felt good to have him as backup, especially since that shirt looked like a loin cloth and he looked like my fantasy man in the moments where he didn’t look like a complete pussy.
“Alley goes this way,” I said, my heart sinking when I realized where he had headed. There was a leather bar back here that also opened up to the alley… and the door was slightly ajar.
“Are we going in there?” King-Sized said as I yanked the door open.
“Sure are,” I said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get pretty much anywhere with you around!” I gave him a slap on the ass and almost broke my hand.
“Lock-And-Key” was a pretty exclusive leather bar that catered to an older (and wilder) clientele than we had. Half the crowd was rubber pups on all fours, wagging their buttplug-tails as they saw King-Sized’s unrestrained mass bouncing with every step. We found our culprit sitting at the bar sipping an appletini with a grey-haired leatherman. He winked as we approached.
“All right, shitbird,” I said, grabbing the guy by the shirt. He didn’t flinch; didn’t even spill his appletini. “Where’s this guy’s daddy?”
The grey-haired geezer gave me more of a laugh than that line deserved. I would have popped him one but I was on a mission.
“Looking the way he was,” he said, setting the martini glass down, “I just felt like a little time on all fours would be good for him.”
“Where is he?” I said, giving him a good shake. He laughed in my face, then gestured around.
“I don’t remember who I sold him to! One of these little hooded darlings is your former daddy,” he said to King-Sized. “By the way, all that mass looks GREAT on you, but… you really do need to butch it up if you’re going to be run around flexing in everyone’s faces like that.”
King-Sized grabbed the shitbag with a fist balled up (I would have to coach him on how to throw a punch, because it was clear from his tucked thumb and askew wrist that this was his first time toughening up) but I stopped him. “Yo, we gotta find your Sir first, then we’ll need this shitbag to turn you guys back.”
“What’s the matter? You don’t like have a dick the size of an arm and arms the size of hippos?” the shitbag taunted.
“Nevermind!” I said. “Big fella, you think you can figure out which one of these pups is your Sir?”
Every pup we saw started humping the big guy’s leg. I looked into each of their eyes and they all looked like they had something they really wanted to say. King-Sized kept shaking his head as we went along. Finally we got to a pup staring at the ground and he pointed to him.
“That’s him! That’s Sir!” he declared. The pork-chop holding the pup’s leash started to drag his charge away, but I stopped him.
“Yo,” I said sternly. “You really want to deal with this beast?” I said, thumbing back at King-Sized, who was on his knees and, yes, once-again crying as the pup stared up at him. Just to seal the deal, I slipped the guy a hundred. I wasn’t sure how much he paid for the pup, but the C-note was enough to get rid of him.
“You sure that’s him?” I said as the porkchop waddled off.
“Yeah,” King-Sized said. “I can tell because he’s the only one who didn’t beg for my attention.”
King-Sized nabbed the shitbag just before he slipped out the door to the alley. I led our pup out back as well and locked his hood and paws. He had bands around his legs keeping him down on all fours. As I yanked him free, I felt him groan. Once the gag came out, I could see that it was clearly the grizzly from before, just miniaturized. He had all the swagger of a burly tank, just condensed into a slim little body. For a runt, though, he was still hairy as hell!
“Damn,” the runt said, rubbing his wrists. “That was… messed up.” He turned to the shitbag, punching him right in the gut. Sadly, the shitbag just laughed.
“That was pathetic!” he squealed, and I could see the runt seething with rage.
“Oh yeah?” King-Sized said, leering down, punching his massive paws together. Damn, the blown-up twink was learning how to use his size! (I’d like to think I was rubbing off on him.)
“Turn them back,” I demanded, giving him a rough shove.
The shitbag looked from giant sub to little alpha daddy and smiled. “You sure you don’t like them like this?” he taunted. One good shake from me and he was digging through his pockets.
“You just have to… switch the pipes,” he said. “So daddy-man, you take this one,” he said handing a purple pipe to him, “and big guy, you take this,” he said, handing him a green one. “Just smoke them and you’ll be good!”
I had a lighter in my pocket. Whatever residue was tucked in those pipes smelled like a pungent blend of mushrooms and opium. The two stumbled around as the smoke filled their lungs. I noticed the shitbird starting to back away. I reached for him, but that’s when I noticed King-Sized starting to shake.
“S-something’s… happening…” he said, grabbing at his inhumanly large pecs.
“You okay?” I asked the runt, who was wobbling unsteadily. I waited to see a change. It took a minute, but finally I saw one: the silver in the runt’s hair and beard starting to darken to black. “Wait, is that…”
As the runt’s pelt receded, King-Sized got a light dusting of hair all over his body. A moment later it bloomed as a full rug all over those massive muscles. In no time, the runt was completely smooth, his beard faded into a shadow that lightened into a soft, bare skin. The runt’s hair faded to a light blonde while King-Sized turned from a hairy gorilla to a silverback. He blinked as lines appeared along his face. That gigantic freak seemed to age thirty years in a matter of minutes. Meanwhile, the runt looked like he was a fresh-faced twenty year old who barely weighed 95 pounds.
“That… fucker…” said the Sir as he stared at his face in an alley puddle. He rubbed his slightly chubby cheeks and sneered at himself, still looking angelic despite himself. Meanwhile, King-Sized looked weathered as hell! He groaned. I could tell that a few decades of heavy lifting hit his joints and tendons all at once; I could see it in the way his stance changed.
“Maybe if we… switched the pipes back…” I theorized.
Sir just shook his head. “Fuck it,” he said. “You got anything we can wear?”
“We can always check the lost and found,” I said.
We found Sir’s harness and jeans and put them on King-Sized, who actually looked great in them. Meanwhile, we found for Sir a sleeveless Britney tank top covered in pink glitter and a pair of acid-washed jeans with the word “THIRSTY!” written in jewels on the back.
Sir rolled his eyes. “I guess it’s better than being naked,” he said, grabbing his mammoth sub by the harness and leading him toward the door.
“Uh, is it?” I asked as King-Sized, now the granddaddy brute of my dreams, waved weakly at me as the two, back in their original roles, sauntered out the door.
