The Giant of Bright Tower, Chapter 17

I told Bubba to take it easy for a few days. Between breaking a personal lifting record and not one, but two of my experimental serums blowing his ass up like a balloon, I wanted his body to actually recover. I was able to get him to promise to only work on arms and abs for the next few days, and I figured that was the best I was going to get.

A swirl of steam danced over my coffee mug on the desk. I was still going over what had happened. My notes for both of the serums lay spread out in front of me, and it was only the third day of staring at them that I was beginning to have an idea of how Bubba grew the largest ass in the world.

“So the one that spurred muscle growth did this…combined with the one that was pure increase in testosterone production,” I muttered, drawing a line between two paragraphs, “So the rapid increase makes sense, but why just at the injection site…was it the simultaneous injection of the antidotes that stopped them from spreading…?”

I leaned back and rubbed my eyes. The only way to learn more would be to combine the serums in multiple different strains of different ratios and inject under controlled conditions. That thought made me pause. Have I done anything under controlled conditions?

I groaned. I pushed back to stand up and stretched my back. I knew this part of development of my serum would be…I guess interesting would be a way to describe this, but I had no idea just how…interesting… it would be. Still, I had learned a lot, and been able to bring it farther since working with Bubba. The perfect lab partner, a man willing to do anything to get bigger.

I figured it was a good place for a break. Time to switch from scientist mode to professor mode. I spent the next couple of hours grading assignments and answering emails, a thoroughly easy and mind-numbing task, allowing the rest of my brain to ponder. However, the pondering came to a complete halt when I came across a certain email address, one I had memorized out of necessity.

Some time later, Bret was sitting on my couch, with all the feeling of a student called into the principal’s office. Hands interlaced in his lap, he sat perfectly still, as if by not moving he wouldn’t get in trouble. I’d say he was trying to make himself as small as possible, but ex-football players couldn’t be small, especially if they became mall cops and helped themselves to fast food meals for years.

“So…you haven’t been able to ejaculate since we last met?” I asked. Bret nodded, looking anywhere but at me.

“Yeah, I uhh.” Bret shifted very quietly, “The first few days…after…I thought I was just…you know…completely empty.” He looked up at the ceiling. “But then… even when I was…even when I could get it up…” he trailed off.

I decided to step up. “Ok Bret, let’s talk about the elephant in the room,” He only half glanced at me. A fat joke, and that was the only response from him. This was serious.

“Yes, you blackmailed me and I responded by essentially trapping you. I poisoned you and I have the only cure. I am uncomfortable with this relationship as well. I don’t want anything else from you except your silence in what I am doing. But… I am also responsible for anything that may happen to you as a result of my serum. If what is happening to you right now is from my serum, then I’m going to help you.”

There was a subtle shift in him, If I wasn’t looking directly at him I may have missed it. But one layer of Bret’s defense was lowered, and he held himself with just a little more dignity.

“Ok, yeah. I…started this,” Bret ran his fingers through his hair, a cop’s gesture. I almost asked him if he started in the police academy, failed out and was punted sideways to security, but remembered in the nick of time I was trying to get him to like me, or at the very least trust me.

I stood up. “Let’s start with some bloodwork.” I lead the way to my dining room lab. I sat him down and he obediently rolled up his sleeve. After drawing a sample, I set it spinning in my analysis machine. An uncomfortable silence later, my machine dinged, and I pulled up the results.

“Hmmm,”

“Hmm?” Bret asked, foot tapping, “What’s ‘hmm?”

“Well, it looks like in your case my antidote was a little stronger than my serum.” I crossed my arms, the motion moving my chair a little. “I don’t have any bloodwork from you before, so this is all I can go on. But across the board,” I pointed out the results on screen, “these levels are lower than they should be for your age, gender, body size, and what I know of your athletic history. The same levels my serum is designed to boost and my antidote is designed to shut down.”

Bret looked like I was speaking another language, “So what can we do?”

I thought about it for a minute, “Have you had lunch yet?”

One injection and an hour later, Bret was sitting at my kitchen table, digging into what some might call an enormous amount of food. With the time I’ve spent around Bubba, my proportions may be off, but Bret’s eyes did grow wide when I began carrying it all from the fridge and setting it before him. However, he did start to nibble, and then eat a little faster, as his stomach started making growling noises.

“Man, is this normal?” Bret paused for a breath and a drink, and his stomach let out another growl, “Whenever I’ve eaten this much before, I’ve at least felt something by now, but my stomach still feels empty.” He rubbed his expanding belly.

“From my experiments, yes.” I failed to add that this particular serum I had only experimented with once before.  This was similar to the batch that Bubba had stuck into his ass, potent but also with the serum. I figured the best thing for Bret at this time would be a quick burst of testosterone to make him feel normal again and thus out of my house as soon as possible.

As Bret grunted through a particular large bite, his free hand moved to his crotch and stared rubbing through the fabric. His leaned back and closed his eyes, then as if suddenly remembering where he was, they snapped open. He looked nervously around until he found mine, and seemed to ask for permission.

“Bret, after what you’ve seen me do with Bubba, after what we’ve done together, do you think I care?”

He didn’t hesitate, but unzipped his pants and out popped his raging hardon. One hand continued to shovel food into his mouth, the other began jerking himself off.

I watched this scene continue, one I never would have imagined happening in my own kitchen, for about 10 minutes. Bret kept eating, which meant the serum was still working, but he also kept pulling on himself.

“Does…it normally take this long?” I asked tentatively.

“No,” Bret said around a mouthful, “not since middle school.” He chuckled at that, the first time he’s smiled since he’s been here.

Then an idea hit me. My mind had been replaying the scene at the mall over again. I thought about the sheer volume that had come out of him. Now I was wondering if it was all my serum that had made him come so much, or possibly….

“Need some help?” I asked.

Bret had just taken a huge bite and both his hands paused. He looked me dead in the eye, and after half a minute nodded.

Feelings swirled around inside of me; was I really going to do this to take responsibility for what I had done to my old bully. As I approached, he shifted his chair back slightly away from the table. I kneeled down on my own kitchen floor and wrapped one hand around his firm member.

“GAHHHHHH!”

Bret dropped a half-eaten burger to grab the table. His dick was twitching madly in my hand, spewing out pulse after pulse of cum. It shot out the end, creating archs of white all over my kitchen floor. I managed to grab a handful of napkins and shoved in on the end of his dick to stop the worst of it, but it was soon saturated.

After a few minutes, the pulsing finally stopped. Bret’s eyes had been shut, and he was now opening them and coming back into himself. I think he was surprised to look down and see one of his hands lovingly embracing the back of my head.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Bret stood up and shoved his dick back in his pants.

“So,” I threw away the napkins and wen to the sink to wash my hands, “You like handjobs, I take it?”

“Well, I…yeah” Bret seemed mortified

“Our last encounter must have been very distorting for you, “ I grabbed a towel to dry my hands, “I didn’t know I was doing your favorite thing while attempting to orgasm you to death.”

“Yeah, it was…”Bret trailed off. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t know how to finish that sentence either.

“Well, you know how to reach me. Let me know if you continue to have this problem over the next few days. But if you do have the problem again, why not see if you can get a little action first?” I suggested.

Bret didn’t make eye contact as he nodded.

“Go. I’ll clean up.” Bret didn’t need to be told twice, and I heard the door shut before I had even gotten the mop.