By Voyager

The building-like physique of Chuck loomed in front of me. His latest spurt of growth had taken him to around 11 feet tall. His body, already containing more muscle than I ever thought possible, kept adding more and more to accommodate his accelerating height. The young man who I once only had to tilt my head slightly to see face to face now was so tall that I was staring directly into his cement-block abdominals.

He was finally hungry, but if he emptied out the entire contents of my house, it would not satisfy him. He knew this, and had come up with an idea of how to quench his growing hunger. He knew I had to go with him…in part so I could not tell anyone about him, in part to continue my humiliation, but he did not know how to accomplish this. We could not go in a car…his monstrous truck was partly smashed by his latest exhibition of strength, and my car would never hold him. He could run, but I could not keep up with him. He had to think of a way of both carrying me and making sure he could run at the speeds he now knew he was capable of. Like before, he claimed that by showing me his power, his thought process was helped. I believed this as much as I believed a used car salesman, but he really was the 800 lb (or more) gorilla.

So as he was contemplating, I was feeling his abs. Now I had the privilege of feeling tight abs before…these were nothing like them. He really was a building, and his abs were the masonry blocks that formed the building. He instructed me to punch him in the stomach, and all I wound up with was a very sore hand. I was astonished at the valley that was in between each of those masonry blocks, and one time probed to see how deep it was. Bad move, as those blocks moved, and simply by the pressure his abs were exerting, my hand was trapped and being squeezed to the point of my fingers almost breaking. That began a gale of laughter from Chuck, who was reveling in his newfound strength. He let go just as I was sinking slowly in front of him. He was smart enough to know he could cause me pain, but not physically disable me…who would be his audience?

After my pain had begun to recede, Chuck motioned to a medium-sized metal bar that I had in my garage. He instructed me to pick it up and then swing it with all my ‘so-called strength’ at his abs. He would show me true power when I did that. This time I did not hesitate, as I had suppressed a lot of anger already. I stepped back and swung right for his abs. The reverb I felt as the bar was stopped dead when it hit is abs jarred me down to my teeth. He reached for the bar, lifted it and me up as if the combo of the bar and I were a dirty dishrag, and said, “Oh, did you just try something?” He was becoming more than Herculean…he was becoming indestructible.

I let go of the bar and landed on the ground. Slowly Chuck played with the bar, twirling it around, bending it as if it were a twist tie. A realization appeared upon his face. Without saying a word, he lifted me up and had me stand on the hood of the monster truck. “Put your scrawny arms around my neck, if you can”, he barked and turned so his back was to me. I did, and my arms were still able to wrap around…barely…figuring the real estate both his traps and his neck took up. Suddenly I felt the bar I had just used wrapping around my hands, and done so quickly I had no time to pull my hands back. So this was how I was going to be transported.

Though I could not imagine this was comfortable for Chuck, even though at his size and strength I made very little impression on him, I was the one who was more uncomfortable. His back went on forever in either direction, from what I could see, and was so heavily muscled that each bulge and protrusion in his expanse dug into me. Complaining, however, would do no good, and would probably get me ‘punished’.

He walked out into the deserted road. It had to be around 10 or so at night, and this definitely was a community that rolled its sidewalks in at 8:00 pm. He crouched down into a starter position, looked back as best he could, and said, “Hang on for a wild ride, little man.” With that his body became a blur as he accelerated rapidly.

Even with the wind shield of Chuck’s neck and back, the wind caused by his running whipped at me. His arms were pumping furiously, his colossal legs propelling him to unheard of speeds. He seemed to cover half a football field in each stride, the ground quaking under each step, his feet at times leaving an impression in the road as his probably half ton of weight thrust downward. Even if someone has seen us running down the road, they would have only seen us for an instant, with the increasingly blinding speeds Chuck was reaching. Not once did I hear or feel him breathing heavily, but a steady rhythmic intake necessary to fuel such an efficient machine.

My whole body slapped hard against Chuck’s as he came to a halt. I felt the bar release my hands and I fell to the ground without warning. In front of us was a closed small market, one of the dozen or so that was around the area. In front of it were gas pumps and a still free air machine. The market itself wasn’t impressive. You could get what you needed there, but not always what you wanted. Chuck almost salivated at the prospect of the food in there that he could eat. He was clearly beginning to be affected by hunger and the loss of energy that he was experiencing.

Ignoring me, he walked over to the building. At it’s height, it may have been 8 feet tall. It had a metal roof that sloped downward from an apex in the center. This would be no challenge for a self-proclaimed muscle god. Hungrily he tore off a section of the roof, tore off a part of the outer wall and walked into the store. He sat down and began devouring aisle after aisle.

Oh, one more thing…he was completely ignoring me.

It would be now or never…I knew that. If I could get away and run without him noticing, I could hide from him…the advantage of being small compared to his giant. If I could elude him long enough, I could find some help…somewhere. Where I would find this help or who it would be didn’t concern me just then. He was already on the other side of the store.

I bolted down the road towards a heavily wooded area and ran into a thicket of trees. It looked like a good sized forest so I just kept weaving and moving, going left first then right, hoping to put him off my trail.

A roar of frustration came from the area of the store. The giant had found out I had left and clearly wasn’t happy about it. Even though I was a distance from him, I could feel the ground tremble with the approaching footsteps. He tried to keep his voice calm as he called to me, trying to lure me out from wherever I was hiding. But I knew him, and knew that he was at a boiling point. I stopped dead, not wanting to give any clue to where I was. Trying to calm my panting as much as I could, so even the still air of the night could not carry that sound. I could not do much, but I could outwait a hungry giant.

Nothing happened for a bit. He even stopped calling me and promising nothing would happen to me if I ‘surrendered’ right then and there. I felt trapped and hoped the cover of the woods would protect me.

That cover became less effective a minute later. I heard a grunt and then the sound of roots being rendered from the ground. I was not sure what was happening, and really did not want to know. Soon, in the distance, I saw what was going on. Chuck would walk up to a tree, place one or both hands on it, and lift straight up, lifting the tree out of the ground, roots and all. He would then lift the tree over his head and toss it out of the way. With saplings it was no effort. With the larger trees, he struggled a bit. With the old growth trees, he had to use his power. That was even worse for me, for with each old growth tree he pulled out from the ground, he grew slightly. Shit. He was refueled.

The trees became thinner and thinner in front of me as each minute went by. Soon there would be no cover. I looked around, panic stricken. What as I going to do? To my back, I saw a clearing. It must have been a field of some sort that was cleared by one of the local farmers. If I could get to there, I might be able to buy myself some time. I timed my steps to the sound of the tree being rendered from the ground. After three or four more trees became lumber material, I was in the clearing. I turned to run to the next grove of trees, across the field. I began to run, but was knocked to the ground by a loud rumbling. I got up again, looking backward, motivated by survival instinct and began running again. I smacked up against a tree and was thrown backwards. Shaking my head and gaining my sight again, I saw it was no tree. I had smacked right into Chuck’s hip. He had seen me, leaped over trees to get to the field, and blocked my path.

Still on the ground, I dragged myself away from him, in what is now the primary definition of a futile gesture. His hand reached down for me and lifted me up, eye level with him. No smile, not even partly evil, crossed his face this time. Instead, he glared at me and simply said, “Oh, are you gonna pay for this one”. •

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