Mr. Plushiverse

[6 word request: bodybuilding competition gets plushie-fied, cuddled]

The bartender slid Cyan another gin martini and flashed him a wink. Cyan eyed up the muscled shirtless man. He was bulging and bouncing in all the right places, wearing a skin-tight sleeveless vest and tight black pants. The bulge on the front was… nearly as impressive as his thick blonde mane.

Cyan turned his attention to the gogo boys gyrating their inflated musclebods on the daises scattered around the club floor. The gogo-boi uniform here was, apparently, bowties, socks, and a skimpy thong. They were even bigger than the bartender; this club, The Crane, was well-known for its impressively musclebound staff.

“You’d be surprised,” the bartender said as Cyan’s gaze fixated on one particular gogo-boi’s flexing glutes swallowing the tail-end of a bright blue thong. “When they take off their bowties they shrink back to normal size.”

Cyan nodded and bit into his olive. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “A lot of this place seems to be all smoke and mirrors.”

The bartender shrugged his big shoulders and swept his hair from one side of his head to the other. He extended a bicep--Cyan estimated about 26 inches--for approval. Cyan reached out without hesitation and squeezed the arm, hard as a grapefruit, and smiled.

“This feel like smoke and mirrors to you?” he asked.

“Very nice,” Cyan said, licking his lips.

“My name’s Titan,” the bartender said, bouncing his pecs. “But when I get off work, my name’s Matt.” Cyan was left to ponder which of Titan’s garments contained the technology that kept him so big and beautiful.

A man wearing sunglasses and a three-piece suit tapped Cyan on the shoulder. “Come with me, Mr. Greaves. You’re expected upstairs.”

Titan’s eyes went wide. “Meeting with the boss, hunh?” he said, whistling. “I didn’t know you were a VIP.”

Cyan confidently shrugged and followed the man to an elevator. “We going up or down?” Cyan asked.

“Down,” the man said. “Way, way down…”

Cyan sighed. The club itself was a hundred feet below street level. When the elevator doors opened, he half-expected lava to pour in.

“You can join Mr. Litho’s most valued guests here,” the man said, gesturing down the hallway beyond the open elevator doors. “He’s quite excited with what he has to share with you.”

Cyan ignored the other tittering men, turning his attention to the large stage set up at the far end of the hall. The others ranged in age from mid-40s to one gentleman in his early 90s. Cyan pegged them all as wealthy, and got the feeling that many of them had done some very illicit things just to get there. Mr. Litho didn’t exactly come into possession of deep black=market tech--like the body morphing garments on the club staff--by following the law.

The screen lit up and the men fell silent. Cyan watched as footage of a bodybuilding competition appeared on screen. He knew exactly which one, as well as the names of the ten competitors the camera centered on. The super-heavyweights hit their poses, grinning and flexing ferociously, as the judges jotted down their scores. As the judges evaluated the men, they moved them around. Cyan knew this system well: the man who ended up dead center was usually the judge’s top pick.

The camera focused on the tall Italian man in the center--Blane Dockett--hitting his most-muscular pose. Then it panned out to show the whole stage.

“As I’m sure you all remember, this competition had no audience,” Mr. Litho said into a speaker. “Due to Covid regulations, there was no one in attendance, only competitors and staff… making it the perfect place for us to procure our latest batch of prizes.”

On the screen, the bodybuilding competition was suddenly hit by a flash of purple light. The competitors froze, eyes panicking but unable to break their poses. The judges looked confused as well, but all were stuck in place. Suddenly the men began to shrink, their bodies compacting, their skin getting softer, the hard edges of their concrete physiques softening out. As they shrank down, they toppled over, squishy heads lightly bouncing on the ground.

The men around Cyan cheered at the sight on screen, as men walked across the stage and gathered up the plush stuffed-animal versions of the bodybuilders and placed them in bags. A separate man gathered up the plush judges as well. “This one’s trunks didn’t plushify with him!” one of the man said, holding up a stuffed bodybuilder that was totally nude, his cock and balls now a squeezable appendage on the front of his tan-fabric body. His posing trunks had slid off during the transformation somehow, now hanging loosely around the slightly twitching toy the bodybuilder had become. The rest of the plush toys all wore their colorful little trunks, their stitched-on faces still grimacing and focusing, looking all the more adorable on their soft round heads and squishy bodies.

The screen suddenly rose away revealing a massive glass case filled with the plush competitors, along with some judges in their little suits. Cyan eyed the crane dangling above the plush toys, knowing exactly what was going on there.

The bidding started. A fat man with a long red beard and a bowler hat bid $50,000 first, licking his lips. Cyan immediately raised his hand, upping the bid to $100,000. He knew this was small potatoes and there was no way Litho would part with his prizes so easily, but he needed to participate in the game.

As more men drove the bid up past a million, Cyan considered just how much he had put in to make it to that room. He was guilty of at least a dozen international cybercrimes just for the hacking he did in the early stages of his infiltration. He followed that up by blackmailing two men, sucking another guy’s dick, and finally a month of rubbing elbows with perverted ultra-rich men at the Crane before he had wormed his way into Litho’s heart. He had worried he wouldn’t be able to get in the right crowd fast enough, before Litho unveiled this year’s “goods” he’d created at the doomed bodybuilding competition, but luck had been on his side.

And now he was about to bid $50 million for a chance to play a toy crane game.

The other men fell silent after Cyan cast his bid. He knew they were mostly stunned at how someone his age--a newcomer and otherwise unknown in their circle--had that much money. In truth, Cyan’s healthy account was an illusion created by some clever hacking of Litho’s computers.

Cyan held the handle of the crane, carefully guiding the crane where he wanted it. He could see the plushie he wanted--Blane Dockett, his ex-boyfriend, in bright purple trunks. As the crane dipped down, Cyan panicked. It seemed to be grabbing one of the judges. But at the last moment, as the pincers snapped shut, Cyan saw that they had grabbed a puffy tan leg. He sighed as he saw it rising from the glass case. Imagine, he thought, if I’d put all that work in for a chance to pull on the crane machine and ended up catching nothing?

The plush doll tumbled out of the machine’s chute and Litho collected it, bringing it over to Cyan with a flourish as the crowd applauded. “Enjoy your new acquisition, my friend. May it be worth every penny!” He held up the plushie and Cyan’s gut went cold.

It was the naked plushie, the one whose posers hadn’t transformed with him. Cyan held up the toy and feigned enthusiasm for the crowd, knowing that Blane was still up there in that machine.

*

Cyan’s guess was that the lumpy little plush man he’d procured was actually Billy Donovan, the 6’5” mass monster who was Blane’s only rival in the superheavyweights. Billy had been wearing the bright orange trunks that the man collecting the dolls had tossed aside. The phone call to Billy’s boyfriend Tate had been an awkward one, both because of the nature of the news and the possibility that Cyan was being surveilled by Litho’s men.

It was a two hour drive to Tate’s house, but Cyan amused himself on the way by picking up the adorable plush doll and mashing its face in his jock. “YEah, bitch,” Cyan said, imagining his ex’s rival having to smell his junk. He grabbed the pull string in the toy’s back and yanked it out.

“I’m the biggest! Give me a squeeze!”

The tinny voice coming from the tiny speaker was clearly Billy’s, and Cyan chuckled at what the big lug was forced to say--that is, until he thought of Blane in the same predicament. Finding out exactly who ended up snapping up Blane from the machine would be an even more Herculean effort than infiltrating Litho’s inner circle had been in the first place--one he wasn’t allowing himself to think about until Billy was back in his boyfriend’s arms.

There was a part of Cyan that felt like giving up. He remembered the last time they’d spoken, the nights he’d cried after Blane had broken things off. The idea of leaving Blane to his plushified fate eased some of the ache of his emotional bruising, but he wiped the idea away immediately. No matter what had happened, he still loved Blane, and the idea of one of those other perverts ending up with him was maddening.

Still, he couldn’t help but play with the Billy doll. He punched his fist into its soft unblinking face, grinding his knuckles into that stupid smile. “Fuck, Billy was pretty hot,” Cyan commented aloud, picturing that ultra-huge jock’s lantern jaw and thick forehead. “Like steak-eating-caveman hot.” He tweaked Billy’s exposed dick. “Pretty well hung, even for a plushie,” he said, yanking the string on the back again.

“Who’s got the biggest pecs? Is it… me?” the little plushie said in Billy’s voice.

“I dunno, little guy, they seem pretty soft to me,” he said, grabbing the little stuffed pecs and pressing his thumb into them. “I hope you can feel all this too, you little fuck,” he said. According to Litho, all of the plush men were all super-sensitive, in a constant state of erotic excitement exacerbated by every caress. “Blane would’ve beaten you, by the way,” Cyan added spitefully.

Cyan was stunned to see just how beefy Tate was as well. It always perplexed Cyan how two bodybuilders could fall in love. How the fuck did all that muscle fit in a bed? How could two inflexible rhinoceroses actually bang without getting stuck together? While Cyan had been half the size of Blane, he had been the dominant top in the relationship. It was hard for him to imagine the setup working any other way.

Tate invited Cyan in and locked the door behind them. Cyan couldn’t help but appreciate that big shaven-headed Tate had stuffed his bulging torso into a tight grey t-shirt. He wondered if it was just how the big guy dressed, or if he was trying to look hot for Cyan--or maybe it was Billy he was looking forward to impressing?

“Wow, you’re as big as Billy,” Cyan said, setting his bag down on the ground.

“Billy outweighs me by forty pound,” Tate said, his mouth a straight line. “Where is he? You said you’d be bringing him here.”

Cyan produced a bundled item from the bag in his lap. Tate unwrapped it, his jaw dropping open as he saw what looked like a mockery of his missing lover.

“Is this some kind of fucked up joke?” Tate roared, balling up his fists. Despite his size, the brute was a little bit of a queen. Still, those muscles packed some power, and Cyan didn’t want to be on the receiving end of this muscle Mary’s rage.

It took some time to calm Tate down. Cyan was only able to convince the large man of the truth of his story by showing him the footage he’d stolen from Litho’s private files. Tate watched his lover onstage suddenly shrinking into a toy without his trunks.

“This… can’t be possible.”

“I have to tell you that I’m pretty close to finding a way to reversing this, too,” Cyan added as he stood up, watching the enormous man cradling his shrunken boyfriend in his arms. “But first, I need to find someone else. When I do, I guarantee I’ll work to make sure Billy’s turned back to normal.” Unable to bear the sweetness with which Tate regarded the stuffed man in his arms, Cyan reached out and grabbed the pullstring.

“He talks too,” Cyan added.

“You think that’s a muscle? I’ll show you some REAL muscle!” said the little stuffed Billy. Cyan worked hard to repress a laugh.

“You can’t call me about this, either. Or talk about it to anyone.”

Tate stood up, towering over Cyan, with stuffed Billy tucked under his arm. “This is… a lot to process. I mean, the police are still searching for Billy. His family wants to know where he is! Do I just pretend I have no idea?”

“Listen, you don’t get who you’re dealing with--” Cyan began, suddenly noticing a purple light glimmering from Billy’s sewn-in eyes. “Tate, put that down…” he said, reaching for the toy.

Tate jerked away, squeezing his toy boyfriend even tighter. “Don’t touch him, man. He’s mine.”

It was too late to save him. A beam of purple light fired from the toy’s eyes, engulfing Tate. One moment he was a towering adonis, the next he too was a stuffed toy toppling to the ground. Like Billy, Tate’s clothes hadn’t shrunken with him either. He was now a nude little muscle toy lying in a pile of his own clothes.

The BIlly toy’s eyes fired again but Cyan dodged the blast. Crouched down, he army-crawled over to the toy, grabbing it by the neck and aiming it away. It fired off a few more beams but Cyan was able to tear the back of the toy’s head out and remove the device inside.

“Sorry about this, Billy,” Cyan said as stuffing poured from the toy bodybuilder’s head. “I swear, we’ll get you all put back together.” Cyan ripped some wires from the device. It audibly powered down, the purple light fading.

“Well, who would have thought,” Cyan said, looking at the two matching naked musclehead toys. “Litho was going to use all the toys to make new toys. What a clever idea.”

Without a doubt, that device had sent off a tracking signal to Litho when it activated. Men were probably on their way at that moment to collect the new plush prize to add to the machine. When they got there, Cyan would be long gone, formulating a new plan to rescue Blane--and perhaps one to take Litho down as well.

In his car, Cyan propped the little plush men together the way he imagined it--Tate bend over, with Billy’s big dick coming up from behind. He yanked Billy’s string.

“Squeeze me and I’ll show you what big feels like!”

Then he pulled Tate’s string.

“Squeeze my muscles against your muscles, TEE-HEE!”

“Well, you two won’t be much conversation,” he said, tickling their pecs.

“But now… if we can rewire this thing… I’ll have a plushy ray of my own.” With some work, maybe he could make it turn plushies back into people?

But for now, he had to make his escape.