"Where is he," he snarled. "I heard him. Where is he, Dane!?"

I shrugged. This was just lovely.

He stared at me, ice and fire warring in his eyes. "I know he's here!"

With a feigned casual air, I raised a hand into the air. I gestured with a single finger toward the other side of the bed. There was a beat of absolute silence.

Then a large, bloated wall of muscle launched itself over my bed, hurtling toward Jason and thundering a stream of basso curses. The two collided with a resounding thump. Swollen biceps wrapped around bulging lats as the two titans grappled for dominance. Jason had at least 30 pounds on Johnny, but Johnny was a blur of fury, clawing and grasping in ways that Jason had probably never experienced. I'll say one thing for water polo. It teaches you how to kick ass.

Of course, it this point I was too busy watching the struggle with bated breath. An absent meandering of my mind made me wonder if the people living above our room even bothered making noise complaints with all the madness that had happened in our room. I somehow doubted that Phil would have let them become an obstacle to his master plan.

"I... need... more," Jason grunted. A 20 inch biceps was crushing Johnny's windpipe. The steely girder of his arm was soliciting a series of wheezing grunts from Jason's opponent. At least, it was until Johnny broke an arm free and jabbed his elbow up into Jason's sternum. The angle was bad enough to prevent serious damage, but Jason dropped away, gasping for lost breath.

I sat up on the bed, my tool thrumming as if it, too, were a combatant priming for the fight. Johnny fell on Jason in his moment of weakness as I reveled in mine. I watched from my front-row seat, and Johnny began throwing punches. His stony knuckles pounded into Jason's face. It sounded like he was beating meat. Considering my perilous erection, I revised that assessment before it became a problem.

And then Johnny flew. Literally. Jason's arms raced into motion. In unison they rammed against Johnny's meaty, rounded pecs, sending him hurtling away. A quiet curse bubbled up on my lips. I had been so concerned with Phil that I had forgotten the danger that Jason could do. And what about Trevor and Johnny? Even if I ended Phil's dominion over my life, wasn't I responsible for—

"Holy... unnngh—" I was simultaneously shocked and derailed from my previous train of thought as a hand came up from the side of the bed and grasped my cock. It was followed moments later by Johnny's sweat-drenched face. Even in his state of disarray, and backlit as he was by the lights of the outer room, he was beautiful. His features were carved from granite. His mouth was hot and wet over my tool as he licked the remnants of my previous orgasm from its length. And, stimulated as I was, I shot another volley down his throat. It felt like I was shrinking again, because his hand began to swell on my tool, but I had no chance to see how big Johnny got. He was bodily lifted and hurled out of the room by Jason's tremendous figure.

Jason was rewarded for his efforts by the second shot of my cum, which sprayed across his black shirt. The fluid glistened starkly for a moment before disappearing into the fabric. Jason's growth was nearly instantaneous. I wondered if the limits of his genetic potential were as strained as the straps of his shirt, which twanged in protest as his mammoth pectorals bulged yet larger.

Jason threw his head back in exultation, his shoulders and neck swelling as broadening silhouettes against the doorway's light. The crack of muscle exploding from Jason's shirt was near-simultaneous with another attack from Johnny, who was not to be denied. I rolled and fell to the floor. The two behemoths fell onto the cum and sweat-soaked bed. Their weight was too much for my much-abused piece of furniture. It collapsed with a groan of metal and creaking of springs.

They were heedless of the shattered bulk of the bed beneath them. Johnny had Jason in a Full Nelson, but as the two swelled and pumped against one another, I could see that Jason still had a slight edge. I was surprised that there were no sounds of bones breaking. Perhaps their bones had strengthened to the point where they could handle such tremendous strain.

As I stood up, an unyielding claw stretched out of the mass of manflesh and held me fast. I did what any self-respecting person about to be crushed by two muscular behemoths would have done: I stomped, hard, on the hand that held me with my other foot. The moan of pain was enough to assure me that I would take winner in this conflict.

Good thing for me that I was dashing for the door, tugging my boxers and sweats up as I went. The two were so in to beating the living daylights out of each other that they did not deign to notice my passing. I went into an all-out sprint as soon as I reached the common room. I was so busy glancing over my shoulder that I stumbled with a hearty smack into Phil's chest.

He flexed too slow to absorb the blow, so instead I was left with the sensation of being rebounded as his pectorals formed up. They pushed me away from his body so hard and abruptly that I stumbled back a bit. His pectorals were enormous, and dominated my field of vision. They were emphasized rather than concealed by his tattered white shirt. It was split at one shoulder and around both arms. His biceps pushed the fabric almost up to his armpits.

"What's going on?" he drawled, not even bothering to look down at me.

"Jason. And Johnny," I breathed.

He frowned, turning his fallen cherub's face into a storm cloud. "I see," he said, and walked into the bedroom the dueling titans had destroyed. I did not stay to hear his shouted commands. I ran, and did not stop running until I had reached the door to Christian's dormitory. If people found something unusual about a shirtless man running through the halls in sweats too large for him, they said nothing to me as I sprinted by.

Christian opened the door just seconds after I rapped on it. He was standing there in boxers white and crisp, as if they had just been pressed. The mass I had given him was defined with a fresh tan. It seemed that Christian had been avoiding wearing a shirt as much as possible since he had become gorgeous. He was larger than I recalled, and not just because I was shorter.

"God, what happened to you, Dane? That bastard shrunk you again," Christian guessed. He pulled me into his arms, which did not make me feel better. It only served to make me conscious of how much taller than me he had become in relative measurements. There was about a four-inch height difference, but he outweighed me by at least 35 pounds. His arms were thick and solid against my back, and the pectorals and abdomen I leaned into would suffer no argument. They felt like part of a statue, but they were warm and mobile, flexing and leaping with his breath. Christian's dick, too, was thick and huge between us. I did not resent him nearly so much as I felt a connection to my former self through him.

I looked up at his face and, with gentle pressure, pushed myself out of his arms. He allowed my escape. He was gorgeous, with those full lips and pale, intense eyes. The recent tan emphasized the planes of his face, making him if possible more perfect than he had appeared just after I had changed him.

That brought me back to an earlier point. "Have you been working out, Christian?"

He laughed at the abruptness of the question, and shut the door before responding. "It's crazy, Dane. I eat like I've got a tapeworm, and everything just turns into muscle. I went into the gym one night, when no one was there, and I benched 250 pounds. It was easy. I didn't dare load it up with more, but I came back the next day and suddenly the shirts that were too tight on me didn't fit at all around these."

He tensed his chest, causing it to explode outward. His pectorals were squared and in pristine symmetry, but it was noticeably larger than that with which I had left him.

"And when I was curling... well." He raised and flexed his right arm. A softball had nothing at all on the vein-wrapped biceps that exploded from his arm, highlighted by the natural slenderness of his joints. His triceps were full-bodied and swelled in perfect balance.

"They started out at 15 inches when you changed me, but now they're much closer to 17. My cock's about the only part of me that's stayed the same size." He visibly noted my silence. "I'm... sorry. Jeez, I've completed the transformation into insensitive jock. What can I do for you, Dane?"

"I need a place to sleep, for tonight."

He nodded. "Done."

"And one other thing. I'm going to need your help some time. Some time soon."

The comforting smile on Christian's face was more reassuring than the best of Liam's commands. He pulled me into the room. I was surprised by his gentleness as much as by his strength. He turned against me, giving me an excellent view of that luscious chest as he closed the door.

Christian gestured me into his room. It was smaller than mine, but he did not have a roommate to share his with. Lucky. His size would have been hard to explain. There were several pictures of him in his previous state hung up on one wall. Apparently he had done some modeling for at least one photographer, as all were artistic shots in black and white. I wondered what his new physique would do for his modeling career, but did not ask.

Christian sat on the side of his bed. "You've got my help whenever you need it, Dane."

"Why?"

"Because I like you." Simple as that. Whenever I was at my lowest during this ideal, it seemed I rediscovered some of the good in this world.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I don't want to get you stuck in the middle of this, but I might have to."

"I said I would help," he insisted, not sounding the least put out with me. He gestured for me to sit next to him on the bed, and I did. It was not the same as my responses to Phil's gestures and commands; Christian was not in the least commanding. I did it because I liked him, too. Yawning prevented me from saying so aloud.

"Looks like you're tired. Do you want to sleep over?"

I glanced around the room. "You don't really have any place for me to sleep."

As my eyes completed their circuit of the area, they met Christian's gaze. Amusement sparkled in his wise grey eyes. He was pointing at his bed, a companionable grin on his face. Somehow, I trusted him when it felt like trust was dying in the world.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he volunteered.

A long moment hung between us as I considered his offer. I sure didn't feel like lying in the same bed as another guy, especially with all that was going on. On the other hand, I was just feeling washed out by this point. I gestured toward the bed wordlessly.

With a shrug, Christian responded, "Just don't hog the sheets." •