By unstud

I was playing hookie from work this morning and felt inspired. This is my first story like this, and I haven't even re-read it, so go easy on me for typos and weird sentences. I have some ideas for a second part, but it took all morning just to write this, so I don't know if or when I'd get around to writing another part.

Anyway, let me know what you think, good or bad!

There was a long line at the sandwich shop when I walked in. Jamie was behind the counter, running back and forth, frantically taking orders, scooping out big heaps of potato salad, wrapping up finished sandwiches, ringing customers; the poor, slight boy was a one man lunch counter. I laughed to myself at the scene and took a seat out of the way. He'd asked me to pick him up at 11:30, but I knew that would mean noon in Jamie time, so I'd waited until 11:45 to get there. The guy was one of my closest friends, and I had long ago gotten used to his awful time estimates.

I had just opened up a magazine and settled, ready in to pass the next 15-20 minutes as Jamie worked through the lunch rush he had on his hands. Over my shoulder, I heard some guys arguing. I turned a little to see what was going on, but it didn't look too serious. Some little dude was trying to give a bigger guy a piece of his mind. Looked like the big guy had cut little dude in line or something, and he wanted to have words. But the big guy was big, probably 6' 3", a big linebacker of a guy, and he didn't seem too interested in what the pip-squeak was saying. The whole scene was pretty unexceptional; it had happened to me a million times over, and while I felt bad for the little guy, I'd learned that sometimes, you just need to know your place on the food chain. Clearly the linebacker needed the calories more than the little guy. At least that's the way I would have figured it, if it had been me in his place. I turned away from the micro-drama and went back to my magazine.


It hadn't been a full minute even, and the little guy was already screaming at the linebacker. The guy was determined to make a scene. I turned around to watch the scene unfold. The little guy had everyone's attention now, including the linebacker. He was facing the nerdy guy, staring down at the screaming little man with a look that read confusion, pity and amusement. But he didn't seem to be antagonizing the guy very bad, if you asked me; the little guy just had some kind of Napoleon complex. At least, that's what I was thinking right up to the point where the big guy reached down and shoved his nerdy prey.

With the shove, Napoleon fell back on the guy behind him in line, who tried to step out of the way but wound up tripping; the two tumbled backwards and landed on the floor, someone's head banging into the concrete floor with a loud crack. I stood up and started over and help bring some order to the whole mess.

But the little guy was on his feet fast, jumping back up and shooting a hateful, awful look at his abuser.

"You....YOU...." the little guy was fuming, his voice trembling, getting louder as his anger grew. "YOU'RE GONNA BE SORRY.....REALLY FUCKING SORRY YOU DID THAT..." he screamed. His face was beet red, actually his whole body looked red, all knotted up with anger and tension, like he was a big spring just wound up and ready to release. He was breathing really heavily, moreso than he had been at the start of his rant. His small hands were balled up into fists, and he clenched them tight to his side. I felt really bad for the guy at this point, but the absolute cartoonishness of his anger almost made me laugh.

It mustn't have just been me, because at this point, the linebacker started laughing too. First it was just a "whatever you say" kind of chuckle. Then it started to grow, louder and louder, until he was fully guffawing at the little man's rage. It was an awful moment to witness for anyone who's ever been picked on, knowing that all of your anger and your frustration can do nothing for you, that nothing short of a miracle would give you the power to really hurt back.

But the little guy didn't crack. I would have, at this point, but he just stood there, getting angrier and angrier. Which is when I noticed that something was wrong. At first, I couldn't quite place it, as I stood listening to the linebacker's wheezing, winded laugh (the guy had been laughing for a good two minutes at this point, and even his massive lungs couldn't keep it up without a breather). But as I continued staring at the little guy, it looked for all the world like he was taller than he had been a minute ago. He was still that same shade of crimson, almost turning purple from holding himself up like he was. But he really did look taller. Even his pant cuffs seemed to be drawing up a little, as if he was stretching his legs out really really far or something. And his hands, the fists he was making, they looked bigger all of a sudden, almost like they might be able to do some damage. I shook my head, wondering what kind of tricks my eyes were playing.

But no, really, the guy was getting taller. I could tell now, the pant legs riding higher up than than they had a moment ago. Even his shirt seemed to be shorter than it had been. It looked smaller, too, tighter across the shoulders, pulling up around the wrists, stretching a little around the arms and chest. Then the little guy stretched himself upward, and I realized he hadn't been straining at all, but had actually been hunching over a little bit. He really was bigger! Taller and bigger than he had been just a minute ago. My mouth must have dropped open as I gaped at the scene that was unfolding before me. What the hell was happening? The guy's shirt, a blue oxford, began to fill out as his shoulders grew broader and his back pushed outward. The sleeves were growing taut, stretched as the arms inside of them grew bigger. His slacks started to fill up as well, the thighs taking thick, full shape, calves pushing out against their back, the cuffs, now mid-calf, cutting into big logs of muscle. The ass of the pants pushed out too, filling and bulging.

The guy was almost as tall as his abuser now, and probably as big too. His face was full of a horrifying kind of rage, his glasses fallen off and his hair gone wild. His mouth was twisted up into a sneering snarl, and his breathing was heavy and aggressive. I felt like I was witnessing some kind of primal, animal scene of conflict, something not entirely human, and I think the linebacker was starting to feel the same way, because he was clearly getting scared.

But the monster hadn't stopped yet. He was still snarling, almost growling, and still growing. His shirtsleeves had stretched to their limit, and began to tear, starting at the cuffs as buttons popped off, and the fabric began to rip right up the seam, revealing huge forearms, twisted with muscle. The tear continued up the arm, great big round balls of muscle stretching at the inside and outside of the fabric. As they too tore, shredded really, I saw the beats' huge football sized biceps burst out, ripping anything that was left of the arm to pieces. But the rest of the shirt was done for as well, the back straining and cracking, tiny fissures opening in the fabric, spreading into bigger cat claw tears that ripped right through to the massive shoulders that were balling up with muscle. I hear more popping and realized that his chest must have burst through the front of the shirt.

The legs of the pants were almost completely gone as well, the huge, unreal calves on full display, the thighs bursting the seams of the slacks as they grew more and more massive, telephone poles or tree trunks of thick muscle climbing up higher than higher as the man (though calling him that now hardly seemed fitting) in front of me grew even taller still. At last, with a final, frightening howl, his huge body tensed into a full-body flex, and the clothes he had been wearing a few short moments ago gave way completely, and the monster man was fully revealed to the shop full of terrified (and yet transfixed) customers. I couldn't look away from the beast to see what the linebacker's reaction was now, but I suspected it was exactly the same as the rest of us: shocked, awed, and deeply frightened. The look on the monster's face was more angry than it had been yet, and yet it was filled with something else that I found even more frightening; satisfaction. The creature who had been a tormented wimp just a moment ago was now fully capable of exacting whatever sort of revenge he saw fit, and on whoever he saw fit to exact it.

He stood for a moment, completely naked, almost basking in his own glow, and certainly in the glow of our horrified admiration. Before us stood the most amazing vision of man I could possibly imagine. Massive beyond belief, at least 7 feet tall and huge, muscled in ways that human beings were not, he was something other than human, something animal and wild. He screamed again, even more of a growl or snarl than a human scream, and his huge body flexed in response. From behind, he was literally unbelievable, but when he turned around to face the rest of the sandwich shop, I realized how much moreso he really was.

His neck was thick with cords of muscle, big veins popping out as they carried his searing rage throughout his strained body. The shoulders were bigger and broader than some tables I had seen, two huge orbs of muscle fighting against the thin skin to burst free. His arms hung out to the side, pushed out by the big broad V of his back. The biceps must have been at least as big as my own thighs, and the triceps behind them leapt out of their own accord, big ham-hocks of arms tensed and striated, capable of unbelievable damage. The monster's chest however, was the most amazing sight by far. Two huge planes of muscle spread out from the middle, bulging big and round like big boulders of muscle, hanging over the cobbled abs so far they cast shadows. The were like overstuffed pillows, pushing out as far as they did across, forcing the arms even further apart and bunching up against the thick neck as the monster-man drew big, heaving breaths.

Far below the mountainous pecs (but almost at chest level to me) swung a huge, pendulous cock that was easily as impressive as the rest of the beats' body. Big swollen testicles were pushed out by thick, meaty thighs. They, in turn, shoved the gargantuan dick even further forward. It was, unbelievably, completely soft, and yet still was bigger than any of the big sausages or salami's that were hanging just behind the lunch counter. It was clearly capable of doing just as much damage to something as the rest of the monster's body was.

Another deafening roar escaped, and the monster turned around towards his former abuser. With lightening speed, his massive arm swept across the linebacker, throwing him up against the wall, smashing tables and chairs and picture frames and sheet-rock along the way. The beast lunged at the wall and grabbed the linebacker up off of the ground, subjecting him to a furious pummeling, finally grabbing his head in his two massive hands and shoving it back into the wall. The linebacker, if he was even still alive, slumped over.

At this, the monster-man roared again and turned around, back towards the rest of us. A few people had the wits about them to flee, but most of us stood there, still transfixed. The monster grabbed a man standing next to him and threw him aside, turned over a table, made a sweeping punch that sent another man flying. An overturned table was sent flying towards the front of the store, colliding with another customer and knocking him backwards, through the plate glass window.

Turning to the counter, the monster looked at Jamie, who stood, as he had been standing throughout the endeavor, shaking like a leaf, and rigidly stuck to the ground. Seeing the massive man's attention turned to him, Jamie began to sob. I can't say I blame him, and am pretty sure I would have done the same thing had I been in his place. The monster roared again and gave the built-in meat counter a shove that shattered the glass and sent the entire counter, and Jamie behind it, into the back wall. I screamed, and without thinking began to run towards the twisted pile of rubble my friend was buried beneath. The monster turned to me as I ran up. His massive hands were bloody and peppered with the shattered glass of the meat counter. He charged at me before I realized what was happening, and suddenly I was in his grasp. His huge meaty hands scooped me up with ease and threw me into the wall. That was the last thing I remember. •

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