Brandon Twice
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More Than Antoine Could Handle (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2020-03-10 06:25:08 +0000 UTC[Good old-fashioned MUSCLE THEFT!]
This was the third night in a row that the punks next door were raging late at night, and it was Wednesday.
Antoine rolled over and looked out the window. There was still just one beat-up car in the driveway, and he hadn’t seen anyone else approach. That meant it was probably just the little douchebag who rented the place and his two burnout friends. The bass from the music radiating from the house was making the glass of water on Antoine’s nightstand ring. Somewhere on the second floor a strobe light was flashing, and the bit of it that leaked out the upstairs window was giving Antoine a migraine. Even when he closed his eyes he could still see it while he felt the music in his fillings.
He glanced at the clock--3 AM--and decided enough was enough. He swung his big body around, dropped his feet to the floor, but paused when he saw flashing blue lights. About fucking time the cops got here!” He thought, groggily ambling to the window and peering out. He watched a young officer bang on the door. Antoine couldn’t see who answered, but he watched the cop’s side of the interaction. Then the music stopped. Antoine unclenched, grateful for the serene quiet, but he felt disappointed as the officer walked back to his car alone.
“C’mon!” he barked. “Arrest somebody! Not even going to write a ticket?” He grumbled as he got into bed, hungry for a little justice. They’re just going to do it again tomorrow night. I wonder how long they’ll squat there if they get an eviction notice?
Antoine hadn’t even realized he had dozed off again when a deep bassline blasting from the house made his windowpane vibrate. His eyes snapped open and he leapt to his feet. His first impulse was to call the cops again, but he knew where that would go.
He saw a message on his phone from Tanya from across the street. “Hey big guy! Those guys are at it again. Think you could go over and knock their blocks off?”
Antoine tried to shake off his sleepy senses before he made up his mind. He was only wearing his tight briefs. Going to talk to them would involve pulling on clothes, then debating some kids who clearly didn’t respect him in the first place. On the other hand, if they music kept up, sleep would be impossible. He pulled a black tank top on and some grey sweatpants. He got a look at himself in the mirror before he walked out the door. “Hell yeah,” he said. “I’d be scared if somebody my size came to my door! I’d do whatever they said.” The tanktop was just tight enough, the sweatpants stretched around his quads and his ass in the perfect way to show off what a tank he was.
Antoine marched out his front door and along the sidewalk as he muttered to himself. “I was your age too, once,” he said. “I used to party all the time too. I get it! But for chrissakes. Enough is enough.” His nearly 300 pounds thudded up the porch stairs but he doubted they could even hear him over the music. As he banged on the door, he wondered if they would even hear that. He put a little extra force behind his big meaty fist, gritting his teeth. It was chilly out. This better not take long.
A bleary-eyed 20-year old with a stringy black hair under his beanie opened the door just a crack. He snorted when he saw Antoine, like he wanted to laugh but stopped himself. His eyes went wide; Antoine watched him scan his big body up and down, like he couldn’t believe how much man had arrived on his doorstep.
Antoine tapped his watch. “You know what time it is, right?” he shouted. The young guy leaned out the door, unable to hear. “You know it’s late, right?” Antoine tried again. The youth’s eyes were nearly pink, and it seemed to take effort to keep them even halfway open. He steppd outside the door, letting it shut behind him. His head lazily dipped up and down as he took in Antoine’s freakishly huge body again.
“I live next door,” Antoine explained. He just got a slow nod in response. “The music is way too loud, buddy. For serious, stay up as long as you want, just turn it down.”
Suddenly the kid’s eyes snapped open. “Shit, you’re that huge dude from next door!” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re like a famous weightlifter or something!”
“Bodybuilder,” Antoine corrected with a smile. If he didn’t have to be aggressive, he didn’t want to be. “And honestly, I’m cool with you guys, really, I just want to sleep. And I can’t with all this!” He gestured at the house. The kid’s eyes followed Antoine’s bulging arms.
“Fuck!” he said. “You’re huge!”
Antoine resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Hey bud, can I talk to your buddies or something?”
“About the music?” the young guy responded. He laughed, a high-pitched giggle, then opened the door. He stumbled inside. “Hey guys, that huge dude! That big fucker! He’s here!”
A fog of weed smoke and sour booze poured from the house. Antoine coughed as he got a mouthful of it. There were two other young guys inside. Antoine recognized them both from the day they moved in, and seeing them shuffle in and out of the house, only late at night or early in the morning. The skinny bald one with the pierced lip and eyebrow stood on a rickety coffee table, dancing with green glow toys woven between his fingers.
The other, the smallest of the three with a mop of blonde hair on his head and a fully tattooed chest, sat in a stained brown recliner chopping blue lines on a metal cookie sheet. They both turned toward Antoine as their buddy came in. His shouts were inaudible over the music, but big Antoine filling up the doorframe was enough to get their attention.
Antoine could only assume the room they were in was the living room. There was no TV, no couch, and no furniture other than single coffee table and the single chair. There were Christmas lights hanging in loose tangles along the wall and cigarette butts floating in red Solo cups here and there on the floor. There was no decoration. Looks like a great place to smoke meth.
Antoine stepped into the house and used hand gestures--vaguely gesturing toward where he guessed speakers were, then drawing a line across his neck. From his perch on the table, the bald one cocked his head to the side like a confused dog. The blonde in the chair just smirked and tapped his phone. The music ceased; all Antoine could hear was his ringing ears.
“Thank you!” Antoine said. “If you could just keep it off the rest of the night I’d appreciate it.”
“You live next door!” the blonde said, swiveling his chair around. He leaned into his tray with a piece of orange straw in his nose and loudly sniffed one of the lines. As he stood he wiped his nostril with the back of his hand and snorted loudly. “For real, bro, I’ve seen you before and I’ve seen you on the internet, but you’re fucking massive up close!”
Antoine shrugged, aware of how that one gesture would show off his size. “Have been my whole life,” he said. “I exploded out of my poor mom.”
The blonde approached Antoine and held out the cookie sheet. He wore a worn-out Chicago Bears jersey--number 54--that hung loosely on him and billowed as he moved. Antoine politely declined, so the blonde snorted another blue line. He set the cookie sheet on the floor and stepped closer to Antoine, nearly toe-to-toe with him, staring straight up into Antoine’s face.
“That was a joke about my mom,” Antoine clarified. “I was regular baby-sized back then. I didn’t get big until high school.”
“You must eat live cats for breakfast!” the bald one said.
“Nah, the fur makes me choke,” Antoine joked back.
“What, do you chug, like, a gallon of ‘roids a day?” asked the dark-haired one as he walked around Antoine slowly.
“Nah, I get them in a nice non-fragrant cream,” Antoine said. “Buy it in bulk at Costco.”
“Big fucker’s got jokes!” said the blonde, thrusting a hand forward. “Chance,” he said. He thumbed at the bald guy. “That’s Reggie.” He pointed at the dark-haired one. “Toots.”
Antoine smirked. “I’m Antoine,” he said. He turned to the dark-haired one. “Your name’s Toots?”
Toots shrugged, his eyes closing entirely. “Least my name’s not faggy Antoine.”
Chance paced in a tight circle. “So, you figured… you’d come over here and yell at us to turn the music off. I guess that’s better than calling the cops on us, right?’
“Unless he DID call the cops,” Reggie offered. “Maybe he’s over here following up on the Po-Po’s lackluster attempt to quiet us down.”
“Look,” Antoine said, smiling again and raising his hands. “Here’s the thing, guys. I’m cool with you partying. For real. Get after it. But there’s no way you need to blast music that loud at this hour. For real. It’s not cool.”
“That blonde bitch, across the street,” Chance said. He smiled and got a faraway look on his face. “Did she complain about us?”
Antoine shook his head, wanting to protect Tanya. “Guys, nobody had to complain about you. Your music was giving me heart palpitations next door.”
“I bet his heart’s enlarged,” Toots said from behind Antoine. “I bet it’s the size of a football. That’s what being that big does to you!”
“Yeah, and it makes your dick tiny too,” Reggie said. “Or was your tiny dick the reason why you decided to try to get so big in the first place?”
Antoine let out a deep sigh. It was time for him to go. “Look guys, thanks for turning the music off. I really have to get back to bed now. If you could just keep it quiet after, say, 11, I think we’d all be happy about it. But by all means, party as much as you want.”
Chance smiled as Antoine backed toward the door. “Sleep is really important to guys your size, isn’t it? Like when you’re bulking. ‘You grow when you rest.’ That’s what all you big fuckers say, don’t you?”
Antoine paused. “Well, sure. I’m not bulking at the moment though. Actually I’m cutting down. Big time diet. But I still like to sleep.”
Chance nodded slowly. “Let me ask you something, Antoine. What’s a guy your size weigh?”
Antoine said, “About 140 kilograms--pretty much a few ice cream sundaes over 300 pounds.” He put his hands on his hips, threw his shoulders back and his chest out.
“Fuck!” Reggie said, his mouth hanging open. “Fucking 300 pounds! You fucking kidding me?”
“I love how he talks,” Toots said to no one. “I want him to say, ‘Your dinner is served…’ Or, like… ‘I am Pepe Le Pew!’ “
“Hey, Chance, maybe he can help move the thing?” Reggie said, slapping Chance in the arm, but the blonde-haired 21-year old never broke his focus on the huge bodybuilder before him. Antoine wasn’t even sure the kid had blinked.
“That’s a good idea!” Chance said. “Listen, big guy, we’ve got a keg in the basement. Any way you could bring it up here? Put it in the kitchen. Thing weighs a ton, but for you, must be no big thing, right?”
Antoine tilted his head to the side. “You want me to bring a keg upstairs? It’s almost 4 AM! My goal was to get the music to stop, not to help you party even harder.”
Chance shrugged. Toots giggled, then paused, looking confused, and giggled again.
“We’ll be quiet if you move the keg,” Chance finally said.
“Yeah! We promise,” Reggie said. “I think I got a hernia just dragging it in! And I don’t want to go in the basement for beers, man. It’s creepy down there.”
Antoine searched the young chemically-addled men’s faces. He let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. I move your keg, as long as you guys stay quiet. Deal?”
Chance reached forward. Antoine’s thick beefy hand swallowed up Chance’s slender fingers. “Jesus!” Chance said. “Don’t squash my fingers, big man! Fuck, you could crush a bowling ball in that thing!”
Antoine’s three neighbors gathered around him. Reggie was the tallest, and he barely came up to Antoine’s shoulder. Toots waist was very clearly smaller than Antoine’s left thigh. These guys weren’t thugs, they were just pests; little runty fucked up college kids.
“Fine,” Antoine agreed. The light to the basement flickered as Antoine stomped down the rickety steps.
“He’s gonna crash through!” Toots said, giggling. “Seriously, those steps can’t hold that much man!”
Antoine saw the keg--PBR, he thought as he grabbed the handles; keeping it classy, guys--and hoisted it up, holding it at chest level. The three onlookers marveled at the feat.
“Jesus, he’s not even sweating!” Reggie said. “Look at his fucking arm! Veins just popping out of that thing.”
Antoine smiled, then hoisted the keg up higher. He started pressing it overhead while his audience oohed and aahed.
“Fuck, all the muscle isn’t just for show, huh?” Toots said, snickering.
“Wish we’d had you around the day Trevor fucked with us,” Reggie said. “I bet he’d throw a punch you’d just flex and he’d bounce right off you!”
The three directed Antoine to put the keg in the kitchen in a small plastic tub full of ice. He set it down gently, then brushed his hands off.
“Okay, then, gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure,” Antoine said. “But I really have to get going--”
“That blonde chick,” Chance interrupted. He seemed deep in thought. “She only fucks guys like you, right?”
“Bro, NOBODY is like this guy!” Reggie exclaimed. “Seriously, this guy is like the two biggest guys I’ve ever seen, but squished together!”
“Except like… only one face, and like… only two nipples,” Toots said, gasping as he broke into a fit of nervous tittering. “And I guess theoretically… just one dick…” He couldn’t suppress his laughter. His roommates ignored it, so Antoine did too.
“Her name’s Tanya,” Antoine said. “If you mean, ‘Does she like big guys?’ I think she has a tendency toward dating bodybuilders.”
He started walking toward the door. Chance was on his heels.
“So you’ve fucked her, right?” Chance asked. He wasn’t looking at Antoine’s face; he was actually staring right into his big arms, which admittedly had gotten a little pump from carrying the keg.
“No,” Antoine said, turning away. “When you cum, your testosterone drops, so I try to keep all of it I can. Haven’t nutted in like 20 years. Balls are huge but at least so is the rest of me!”
Antoine opened the door and stepped onto the porch, grateful to be in the cool fresh air and away from the fratty trio.
“Thanks for moving our keg!” Reggie called after him. “We might call you when we get a couch!”
Antoine gave them a thumbs up as he let the door slam shut behind him. He walked down the sidewalk toward his house, stopped by Ernie, who lived on the other side of Antoine’s place.
Ernie tightened his bathrobe belt and shook his head. “Thank god, buddy!” he said, gesturing at Chance’s place. “I had a girl over and I thought I was gonna have to go bust some skulls. I can’t get romantic with them blasting their damned EDM this late at night!”
Antoine shrugged. “Just had to appeal to their sense of neighborly respect,” he said.
“Yeah, and I bet having 28 inch guns didn’t hurt, either,” Ernie said, blinking as he took in Antoine’s big body. “Fuck, man. I lift all the time, dude! How the hell can I get as big as you?”
“Ice cream,” Antoine said with a wink. “I eat a half gallon a day. Luckily it’s ending up in all the right places.” He gave his pecs a little bounce and Ernie whistled. Then the two returned to their houses.
Antoine had just pulled his sheet up to his neck when the sound of bass blaring from next door rocketed him out of bed. He was stomping toward the door, furious, when he saw his phone light up.
Tanya again: “Are you serious? Go break those kids in half!”
“On it,” Antoine texted back. On his porch, he saw the lights at Ernie’s house come on and saw a curtain pull aside. Antoine gave a thumbs up in its direction and pointed at his flexed bicep: “This will fix them.”
He didn’t even knock when he got to Chance’s apartment. He just threw the door open.
The three weren’t far from where he had left them, but they were slugging back plastic cups of foamy beer. They didn’t even turn as Antoine thudded into the room.
He slammed the door and crossed his arms. He cleared his throat loudly, then stomped his foot hard on the ground. That finally got their attention.
Chance, sitting in his filthy recliner again, pointed to his ear and shrugged. Antoine just shook his head. He took a few steps forward and loomed over the skinny blonde, flexing his lats to look as wide as possible. He reached out and snatched the phone out of Chance’s hand, poking at the screen. The music ceased. Reggie and Toots froze in place, their eyes wide.
“Give me that back,” Chance said. There was no playfulness to his voice. He rose to his feet and reached for the phone. Antoine held it so high Chance couldn’t reach.
“Why shouldn’t I flush this down the damned toilet?” Antoine said. “I moved your keg, I was patient as hell, and you still think it’s okay to blast your damned music? What’s wrong with you guys?”
Chance’s sneer dissolved. “See guys? I told you he’d come back over himself. He’s not gonna call the cops. Big man has it all under control, don’t you big man?”
Antoine looked the three over. “Yeah, I think so. Considering the fact that none of you are even as heavy as my warmup weight, I think I have this one handled. Now you want your phone back? Or should I take it with me until tomorrow?”
“You don’t have to give it back,” Chance said, all the mirth fading from his face once again. “Because I’m going to just take it back myself.”
“Oh, really?” Antoine said. “Why don’t you give it your best shot.”
Chance reached for the phone and Antoine gently shoved him back. Toots and Reggie looked agitated.
Chance quit trying. “Go ahead. Try to leave here with my phone. Just see what happens.”
“I tried, before,” Antoine said, “but you really pushed me too far. I tried to be nice, because I getg it--you’re just college guys having a good time! But this disrespect has gone way too far.”
Chance smiled. “You’re right. Way too far,” he lilted, clearly mocking Antoine. “You’re in over your head, big man.”
Antoine slid Chance’s phone in his pocket. “You can have this back tomorrow. And if your music comes back on, I’ll smash it.”
Chance was gritting his teeth. “If you don’t give me my phone back, I’m gonna knock you right out of your shoes…” He held up an index finger. “...with just this.”
Reggie and Toots had pulled up on either side of Chance. Antoine wondered if these little twerps were really going to fight him.
“Oh yeah?” Antoine said, holding his arms out. “I’ll give you a free shot. Go right ahead.”
*
It felt like he got stung from behind--a sharp pain in the back of his neck, then his vision went blurry. First thing he felt was a draft--his pants had fallen down. He stumbled around a little bit, waiting for his vision to clear.
He dropped Chance’s phone. It felt--heavy? Was that right? Did these guys drug him? As the room came back into focus, he panicked, wondering where the fuck he was. The room looked completely different--HUGE--but after a few moments of blinking he realized it was the same place he’d been. It just looked wrong.
But not as wrong as the men in front of them. He recognized Toots and Reggie immediately--but he was staring UP at them. They were as tall as basketball players now! The guy between them was a BEHEMOTH. So massively built, Antoine wondered if he weighed 500 pounds--and he had to be 7 feet tall, with a thick mane of blonde hair. Toots and Reggie looked up at the giant; Toots was smirking, Reggie looked shocked. The big guy chuckled and flexed his muscles--holy hell how could a guy that big even exist? And where did he come from?--causing the skin-tight football jersey to start to rip and tear.
It was a Chicago Bears jersey. Number 54. But that wasn’t possible.
The mammoth man reached out with one swollen finger and poked Antoine in the chest, knocking him backward.
The force alone was enough to topple Antoine to the ground, but the fact that his feet were tangled in his feet didn’t help. The wind knocked out of him, Antoine struggled to his hands and knees. He looked at his sweatpants, collapsed in a pile on top of his sneakers which were still tied. How had his feet come right out of them!
“I don’t think he’s totally realized what happened,” the massive blonde said in a deep voice that rumbled in the floor. “I think his brain shrank with everything else.”
Antoine rubbed his eyes. He was looking down at his tank top, but it was enormous. It looked like he could slip his shoulders right through the neck hole! At first he couldn’t process the pale, scrawny body he was looking at. He thought to raise his hand, and the skinny little hand in front of him moved. He wiggled his fingers, and those dainty little digits wiggled in front of his face.
“This isn’t… possible…” Antoine said in a high-pitched, pipsqueaky sounding voice. The tank top was so huge he was essentially naked--and he could see every bone in his body. There wasn’t an identifiable ounce of muscle anyway; he looked like alabaster skin wrapped around a chicken carcass.
As he stood, he couldn’t believe how light he was--and how tired! He felt physically exhausted, like he was moving through water. When he stood to his feet, the tanktop slipped over his narrow frame and slid to the floor. Antoine’s little hands clapped down to cover his dick, which felt so small in his hands it couldn’t possibly be his--but he knew it was. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how.
And that meant the gigantic man was Chance. Antoine actually felt himself shaking as the beast stepped toward him. Every movement Chance made shredded more of his clothes. Two steps forward, his shorts felt to the ground in tatters, revealing his gigantic quads--each one bigger than Antoine’s whole body now--and a cock that looked like it weighed ten pounds on its own.
“Get his clothes,” Chance boomed. Reggie lunged forward and Antoine instinctively swiped at the advancing hand--but there was no power in his hands. Reggie easily shoved him back. Antoine landed hard on his bony little ass, surprising himself when he whimpered on impact.
“H-how… how did this happen?” Antoine asked as Reggie tossed the bodybuilder’s sweatpants to Chance, who pulled them on. They had fit Antoine comfortably before, but they seemed a little tight on Chance’s herculean frame.
“It happened because you were being a big-shot,” Chance said. He raised his arms into a double-biceps pose, grinning wildly when he saw what they looked like. “It happened because you thought you could just muscle around and get your own way. Well, tell me, ANT, you still think you can tell us what to do?”
“Should we tie him up?” Toots suggested. “We can toss him in the basement for a little bit. Maybe piss on him! That’d be so fucking funny.”
“Maybe you could swing that big sledgehammer cock of yours,” Reggie suggested, gesturing at the obscene bulge in Chance’s newly acquired sweats.
Chances smiled, readjusting his large manhood with a thick paw, before shrugging huge shoulders. “Y’know boys, I think I want to duct-tape him to my big fucking back.” He flexed his lats, suddenly seeming like he was 5 feet wide. The jersey split down the middle. “Just walk around with him stuck up there like that. Grab him for me, will you Toots?”
Antoine couldn’t believe that even scrawny little Toots was bigger than him now. The burnout lunged for Antoine and grabbed him easily, getting him in a headlock. Antoine choked and sputtered, struggling to get away to no avail. This little stoner guy was stronger than he was now.
In a panic, Antoine punched Toots in the balls as hard as he could. The grip lessened and Toots groaned, falling to his knees as Antoine scurried free. He ran for the door as Reggie tended to Toots.
“Bro! You okay?” Reggie asked.
“It’s cool,” Toots said. “He can’t punch for shit anymore.”
Antoine was nearly stymied by the fact that the doorknob was level with his chin. It took everything in him to turn it and leap out to the porch.
The door slammed shut behind him and the EDM started back up. He whirled around, horrified that his fratty tormentors would be behind him, but they didn’t appear to be following. He looked down at his naked body, unwilling to accept that it was real. He had never even been this underdeveloped when he was a kid! He ran his hands along his visible ribs, curled his thumb and forefinger around his arm to measure it; there was plenty of room to spare. He couldn’t believe legs that small could even hold him up! His dick was the worst of it--a little acorn over two little nubs with just a small tuft of hair above it.
It was like he was in somebody else’s body. But it was his--just much, much smaller.
It hadn’t dawned on him that he was nude in public until he heard footsteps on the sidewalk. He scrambled to the edge of the porch, hopping over the railing and crouching behind a bush as Ernie stomped up onto the porch. He was muttering, fists clenched, as he banged on the door.
“Maybe Antoine’s not gonna slap you fuckers around, but I’m not afraid to!” Ernie barked at the closed door. When it opened, his jaw went slack. His eyes rose up--up--UP at the massive body filling up the door.
“Can I help you?” Chance asked in his deep rumbly voice. He was wearing Antoine’s tank top now, although it was stretched to capacity. He ran a big hand down his chiseled abdomen, making on pec bounce as he glared down at Ernie, who seemed less than half his size.
“I… uh…” It looked like Ernie’s knees were going to start shaking. Clearly his mouth had gone dry. He was struggling to think of anything to say as Chance pounded one big fist into his other hand, a half-smile on his face. “Was… did… did Antoine come over here? I thought I… saw him come over… earlier…”
“Who, that French bitch?” Chance said. He leaned back into the house. “Hey, did that French pansy come over here earlier?” If they responded, Antoine couldn’t hear it over the grinding dubstep. Chance stepped out onto the porch, letting the door slam behind him. Ernie’s neck still craned up at the huge man, but he took a few clumsy steps back as he approached. “Yeah, he was over here. I think he got a little intimidated by me though. I don’t think he’s used to seeing guys MY size.” He flexed his arms and stuck out his tongue at Ernie, who barely seemed to be breathing. “He scurried off with his tail between his legs. I think he went to go pump some iron. Maybe he’ll be back when he puts on a few pounds.”
“O-okay…” Ernie said. He turned away and started to leave.
“Is our music bothering you, little buddy?” Chance asked. Ernie couldn’t respond; he just nodded. “How about I turn it down for you? A little neighborly favor for you. Maybe you could do a favor for me?” Ernie just nodded again. “Our buddy got a little too drunk. He’s running around out here naked, toasted out of his mind. If you see him, could you call the cops? He’s definitely going to be starting trouble.”
Antoine crouched deeper into the bush. What the hell was he going to do now? He actually started shaking--was he cold or is this what being scared was like?--and the bush he crouched behind started rustling.
The door slammed, the EDM finally ended, and Ernie started to walk away. He paused as he noticed Antoine’s bush.
“Somebody back there?” he said, approaching slowly, glancing back at Chance’s house every few steps.
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