The Rotunder, Chapter 1

Brandon spun around the corner, painfully aware that the clock in the hallway said he was 15 minutes late to his Physics lecture. Stitch in his side, he slowed down as he approached the door. He opened it as carefully as he could and it rewarded him with perfect silence. Slipping in, he stayed low, easy for his small frame, and made his way to an end seat in the back row with a girl who’s black hair was dyed half orange on her left side. Hannah’s eyes forward, she removed her book bag from the seat so he could slide into it.

“What was it this time,” She hissed, her orange poka-dot sleeve crossing her notes to draw swirling designs in the corners, “Old lady needed help crossing the street?”

“No, just some punks who wanted to steal a car.” Brandon whipped out his notebook and found a fresh page, “I almost kept walking, but then one of them had psychic powers, the guy’s face went blank and he was just handing his keys over to him.”

“So?” She pressed a little hard into the page for one swirl, “That’s not bad enough for you to risk-“

“After he took the keys, he bragged about testing his powers.” Brandon started scribbling, “he made the guy think he was burning alive. He was screaming Hannah.”

Hannah made no reply but continued to alternate between notes and swirling designs. He knew what she was thinking; torture was on their list of reasons for Brandon to use his powers.

“What did you do to them?”

“I went with super speed, to hit the psychic before he knew I was there. The other two hadn’t even realized what was going on before all three of them were duct taped to a tree.”

Hannah snorted.

“One quick call to the SuperHelp line on a burner phone, and I was outta there.”

“Maximum amount of time you used powers?”

“Shouldn’t have been more than a minute.”

“Good. How do you feel?”

“The usual, it felt-“
“My classroom, so why am I hearing voices other than my own?” A polite but stern voice cut through the lecture hall. Professor Handle was looking in their direction, as well as a couple interested faces from the crowd of students. He actually wiggled a finger in Brandon’s direction. “I don’t remember you sitting there when my lecture began young man.”

“You probably didn’t notice him next to all of this.” Hannah called out, waving a hand over her colorful appearance. Brandon, his small, skinny frame and mop brown hair and plain clothes was beyond boring next to Hannah. Her orange hair and matching orange and white polka dot shirt ended in a pale blue skirt, and thigh-high black boots.

Professor Handle blinked. “Well I certainly don’t remember you sitting there either?”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“In that case,” Professor Handle huffed himself up, “what did I say at the start of lecture?”

“Remember the test next week. Essay due at the end of the month. And you made that joke about Captain Freedom and Lady Liberty.”

The professor seemed to bristle. “Still my classroom, so quiet down.”

Brandon held back a smile. Hannah must have camouflaged herself enough to be seen but not noticed. He saw she had angled her notes his way, and focused on catching up.

-

“You’re upset that I used my powers,” Brandon noted before biting into his tuna sandwich. A cool breeze moved around them as they enjoyed their lunch outside on a beautiful spring day. Around them college students bustled to their next classes, ate their own lunches at other tables, or lay in the perfectly manicured lawns the college maintains for photos of the school.

Hannah had tapped her fingers on a watch on her wrist and a wide sun hat had appeared on her head. Her sunglasses hid her reaction to his words, but she hadn’t touched her lunch. “I am always upset when you use your powers.”

“This is usually when I point out that I used them for a pre-approved reason.”

“Torture in regards to yourself or a loved one.” Hannah pushed her food around on her plate, “Are you going to argue that you fell in love with this random stranger?”

“Well, he was ok looking. Maybe after a drink or ten-“

“Brandon.” Hannah set her fork down, “We’ve been over this countless times.”

“Yes, we have.” Brandon set his sandwich down. “And I still won't ignore when something bad happens around me, especially bullies.”

“That’s because you always fail to see the larger picture.” Hannah crossed her arms, “Your powers are beyond unique. You are, as far as I have been able to analyze, the most powerful superbeing in the world. But your control is the problem, has always been the problem.”

“No, it’s not Hannah. I’m not eleven anymore, I have more control than ever before. You’re still worried that I’ll gain the attention of The Champions”

“All that has to happen is one slip up and then they pay attention to you. And then someone almost as smart as me will notice what I saw long ago.”

“Hannah,” Brandon turned to look at her, “I’m not going to ignore bullying. I am not my brother.”

Hannah knew better than to press that painful subject. It was her turn to look away, “You see the same facts and truths that I see. Why can’t you understand?”

“Because I’m not as smart as you are, Han-han. No one is.”

“I know,” she leaned forward slowly, “It’s very lonely sometimes.”

Brandon gave a small smile, “We were both lonely. But we’ve always had this," he gestured to the two of them, "so at the very least we could be lonely together.”

Hannah returned the smile, “And always will. Just,” She paused to shake her head, “No, this is where I have to just trust you despite the evidence.”

“Thanks Hannah,” Brandon picked up his sandwich, “Besides, it’s not like you don't have a contingency plan in place.”

“Numerous. Extensively thought out. All organized alphabetically.”

Brandon smiled as he took a bite.

-

Brandon rubbed his neck as he walked out of his last lecture for the day. He was wondering about going to the library to get a start on his essay when his phone buzzed. It was from his Super Alert App. The app was informing users there was currently a super-powered ‘dispute’ going on downtown. It stated that the Champions were on route and suggesting alternative routes of travel.

Brandon stared at his phone for a while. Well, he thought, there could be innocent bystanders……

He changed direction and made his way to the English building. Being an older building on campus, it was the only one he had found with bathrooms and, most importantly, no cameras pointed at those bathrooms to monitor if the same people who go into those bathrooms also come out. Pushing the door open, he made his way to the handicap stall and locked the door.

He hung his backpack on a hook. Stripping off all his clothes, he stuffed them in on top of his books and zipped it shut. He felt a shiver of goosebumps and it wasn’t from the ac vent above his head. He raised his wrist and tapped his own watch. In an instant, he was wrapped in tight blue spandex, a white strip running down his sides from his neck, shoulders, ribs, hips and ending in white boots. The spandex ended at his wrists, and a white and blue mask covered half of his face, leaving his mouth and chin free. Another shiver. He raised his hand to stick his thumb in his mouth. Took a deep breath.

And blew.

The feeling of ecstasy enveloped Brandon again. He felt his belly, it always started with his belly, begin to swell and round out. The spandex easily stretching to accommodate his growing girth. Not just his belly, but his whole body began to balloon, and his view of the stall change as his head grew closer to the ceiling. More and more, he filled out and the feeling grew more pleasurable the larger he got.

As he grew and the pleasure continued, Brandon forced himself to focus, thinking on which powers he wanted.

Invulnerability, strength, flight, speed….

Brandon was running out of space in the stall

Psychic-proof, teleportation, uh….poison proof…

Brandon knew he had to stop. Slowly, the growing ended just has his head was pushing the ceiling tile. His frame now filled the stall, his belly pressing hard into the metal divider and his ass pressed against the wall. The blue spandex now had to cover the mountains of muscle and fat.

God this feels good, he thought to himself, raising his hand to stroke his double chin. Maybe I should add more... He shook his head. NO Brandon, you always want to add more. He reached down to grab his backpack off the hook. Struggling to get his other arm around without cracking a wall, he pushed up a tile in the corner and shoved his backpack out of view.

“Okay,” Brandon rolled his shoulders and heard the lock on the door protest. “Time for The Rotunder to do some heroing.” He closed his eyes to picture where he wanted to go, and he was suddenly gone.

A woman was just exiting the English department when a sudden gust of wind rushed by her as the air pressure inside the building dropped tremendously.

-

The Rotunder blinked to get his bearings. He was standing on top of a rooftop, and he habitually used his powers of flight to offset himself just a little as to not test the strength of the surface beneath his feet. Lightly crunching over the gravel, he walked over to the ledge to see the source of the sounds echoing up the sides of buildings.

He looked over the edge of his gut in time to see a car midair fall and crash onto a second, bursting into flames. Turning, Routunder identified the thrower as the muscle giant currently beating his chest. Wearing only black shorts and roughly two stories tall, he strode around a man who was busy shooting ice from his hands to build a frozen wall to hold back a swat team that had set up in the street. He saw three other guys standing with the giant and the ice guy, the seemed to be shouting instructions to each other and at the giant.

Rotunder breathed heavily, every inch of him still alive with pleasure, He focused on the big guy. Long experience had taught him it was the muscle big guys who focused on those much weaker than themselves. Sure enough, the giant picked up a discarded tire and toss it like a frisbee into one of the swat members, who was knocked backward off his feet.

“Fuck ya, take that ya pussy,” the giant slapped one hand against his beefy chest, “Bunch of fucking weaklings.”

Rotunder felt his blood boil with the only thing that could bring focus to keep him from being swallowed up by the ecstasy his powers brought. In an instant, he vanished again to reappear next to the Giant who didn’t even have time to finish saying “What-” before Rotunder placed a hand on him and they both vanished only to reappear in the middle of the desert a second later.

“-The fuck?” The Giant blinked, looking around. He focused on Rotunder, a head shorter than he was,  who he looked up and down and laughed, “Who the fuck are you suppose to be, The Lard Ass?”.

“You like picking on people smaller than you?” Rotunders voice's was sultry between his power and the anticipation of what was coming. “You like easy?”

The giant cracked his knuckles, “You some kind of wanna be hero?” He waved his hand around, “Bringing us out here so we don’t hurt anyone else?”

“Sure,” Rotunder shrugged, “Let’s go with that reason.”

“Well all your little teleporting is gonna do jack shit against,” The giant began growing larger. Proportionally, his body stayed the same shape, only now his head reached ten stories high. Casting a shadow over Rotunder, he grinned  down at him.

“What cha gonna do little man?”

Rotunder looked back up at him. Not really at him, more like through him. He’s come across so many like him they all seemed to blur together at this point.

“I noticed your shorts seemed to grow with you.” Rotunder called up to him.

The giant leered down at him, “So?”

“So I have a friend who’s going to want to take a look at those once I’m done with you.”

The giant reached back and roared in laughter, “You must have huge balls under that gut of yours.” He continued laughing as the Routunder brought his hand up and put his thumb in his mouth.