Tuck Needs a Loan Part 3: Origin Story

[Read part 1 here.]

[Read part 2 here.]

Nights out in the limo were even more difficult since the boss implemented a “no cell phone” policy. Normally Tuck would dick around on Facebook, but the IT guys had installed a lock on his phone that his boss could toggle with an app. Now, after Tuck dropped off Giato, his employer, at “Ironsides” (an exclusive male strip club), he had to sit outside quietly until he received a text (the only function his phone was capable of) telling him to pull around to the front. Eight hour shifts were murderous, but Tuck told himself they would get easier after awhile. He wiled away the hours standing at the doors of Ironsides, which his boss owned, imagining the muscular, oily men inside gyrating and flexing for ultra-wealthy men. Rumor had it that his boss’ dancers would do anything for the right price.

The bouncer at the front door became Tuck’s private show. Even across the street, Tuck could see the massive man’s hulking muscles filling out his tight t-shirt. He imagined the man looming over him, black skin shedding sweat like hot rain as he squatted down to rest an over-packed jockstrap on Tuck’s face. His buzzing phone--hours earlier than expected--snapped him out of the fantasy.

“Bored and too drunk too early,” Tuck’s boss texted. “Come get me.”

Not only was it strange for Giato to finish his evening revelry before midnight, but he had never invited Tuck into the club. Was he so drunk that he needed Tuck to carry him? If so, why not have one of the massive bouncers (or even one of the beautiful, puffed-up dancers) carry him out? Tuck wondered if it was a test. Giato was known for playing mind-games with his staff. Just a week before, Giato had overpaid a security guard by a hundred dollars. When the guard didn’t speak up about the discrepancy, Giato “demoted” him without a discussion.

Tuck shivered, recalling the horror stories he’d heard about what “demotion” really meant to a man as powerful as Giato.

“Did my request lack urgency or is it you?” Giato sent as a follow-up. Tuck imagined Giato saying the line to him, his head cocked to the side, tongue gently poking out in a way that blended playfulness and severity. He yanked the keys from the ignition and hurried inside, careful not to scuff his shoes on the pavement.

The massive bouncer stopped him with a brawny hand. “You’re not on the list, little man,” he said in a baritone that made Tuck’s nipples tingle.

“Boss asked me to come get him,” Tuck explained, producing his phone to supplement the claim.

The bald-headed bouncer raised an eyebrow and smirked. “My ass,” he chuckled. “If the boss needed something he’d have radioed me directly.” The enormous man tapped his earpiece with a brawny finger. Tuck just shrugged.

“Look, it’s my ass if I don’t go get him,” he said. “Look at these texts! You know I’m his driver! Why would I lie?”

When Giato’s gaunt face appeared in the doorway behind the bouncer, Tuck felt relieved--with a tiny twinge of regret. There was a part of him that had been desperate to get a look inside the legendary Ironsides. After two months of working for Giato, he’d still yet to enter.

“I’m sure there are amusing reasons why you’re detaining my driver from fetching me, right Valentino?” Giato said, sweeping his long silver hair over his shoulder with a flourish. Giato’s body was thin and angular. His grim face seemed ageless; he could have been a weathered 35 or a youthful 60. Some of the guys on staff whispered that he was over a hundred. Tuck couldn’t tell if it were serious.

Valentino’s hulking form deflated under Giato’s glare. “Uh, you see,” he said sheepishly, “you know my, uh, primary directive is to prevent people from entering without, uh… express…”

Giato shook his head and clucked his tongue. He traced a bony finger between Valentino’s enormous pecs. The large man shivered at the contact. “At a certain level of esteem,” Giato explained coldly, “there’s an expectation that one’s reasonable requests will be granted without complication. It’s upsetting to me to think of how much effort I put into careful selecting my employees when faced with such a disappointment.”

Valentino’s eyes sank to the ground. It was clear he felt as small as a bug under Giato’s gaze. “It won’t ever happen again, sir,” he said, bowing his head.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Giato explained, breezing past Valentino. “Tuck, my boy, get the car started. I’ll be approaching the limo at a brisk pace, so it would behoove you to sprint there first.”

Tuck ran, as directed, and had the limo started before Giato got in. His boss shocked him by joining him up front, something he’d never done before.

“Sometimes I just like to stare at the road as it approaches,” Giato said, uncorking a bottle of champagne he’d fetched from the back.

“I was, uh…” Tuck began, feeling like he needed to explain himself, “worried that… that you were testing me before.”

“Oh, I was,” Giato explained. “Luckily for you, I was grading on a curve. Sadly, our friend Valentino back there failed.”

Tuck wanted to know what that meant for Valentino, but he was terrified to ask. He wondered what it was like to work without the constant threat of mindgames, but then again, with the amount of money he was making, he didn’t have much room to complain.

***

Tuck woke to the sound of a shower running. He could tell by the silky sheets that he wasn’t in his own bed. One whiff of the musky scent reminded him that he’d fallen asleep next to Romeo, one of the dancers at Ironsides. Just before sunrise, when the club closed, Tuck got a text to wait near Romeo’s place. The big blonde man let Tuck in through a back entrance, the way he’d done for the past two months that they’d been fucking. As far as Tuck knew, their little trysts were still a secret, the way Romeo wanted it. The secrecy was fun.

Tuck rolled over and stretched out, his pale, tattooed skin tingling under Romeo’s luxurious sheets. He wondered if all of the dancers’ rooms were as amazing as Romeo’s flat, which was larger than the house Tuck grew up in. He took a moment to flash back to Romeo forcing Tuck’s face into the larger man’s deep musclepits. What a beautiful man Romeo was--but what the hell was he doing with Tuck, the skinny driver wondered?

Tuck crawled out of bed, pausing by Romeo’s dresser. He cautiously slid a drawer open and pulled out a pair of boxer-briefs, holding them against his waist. Goddamn the big dancer was huge! 6’5” tall, shredded with big, bouncy muscles. Between dancing at the club and fucking Tuck in the morning, he wondered when the big hunk ever had a chance to hit the gym. No doubt Giato was supplying the big man with the best steroids in the world--but Romeo made the football hunks Tuck had lusted after in high school look scrawny by comparison. Again, Tuck wondered, what the hell is Romeo doing with me?

Tuck cracked the bathroom door, letting out the hot humid air, and peeked in to catch a glimpse of the big body, lathered in suds.

“Close the fucking door!” Romeo barked. “Are you still fucking here?”

“I was, uh… just wondering if you wanted a round two,” Tuck said, trying to sound sexy, although his voice wavered at the end.

“What I want is an empty flat,” Romeo said. “Beat it. And leave through the back, too. You’re fucking dead if anyone sees you.”

Tuck left without a word, trying to bury his stinging feelings. Romeo had a “rough daddy” persona when they fucked, but the cruelty that came out after they came was nearly enough to make Tuck call for an end to their little sexcapades. But Tuck knew, as soon as that text from Romeo lit up his phone, he’d be on his way over there, no matter how nasty the big man would get in the aftermath.

The air outside was chilly, and sadly Tuck had left his jacket inside. He hustled, hoping that jogging might warm him up a bit. He hated the fact that he was too afraid of Romeo to go back and knock on his door again. He froze when he saw a mountainous brute in a trenchcoat standing outside with thick arms crossed, shaking his head. It was Woodrow, the head of Giato’s security.

“Woodrow!” Tuck said, freezing. “I was, just… uh…”

“Everyone knows about you and Romeo,” Woodrow said, a smile spreading across his blocky face. He ran a gloved hand through his curly brown hair and chuckled, his muscular chest heaving. “It’s funny, watching you two run around like you’re fooling anybody. Not a damned thing happens without Giato knowing about it.”

Tuck shuffled his feet. “Is that true?” he said.

“Well,” Woodrow said, shrugging his wide shoulders, “there may be one or two things going on that our illustrious boss isn’t aware of. Shall we go for a walk?”

Tuck joined Woodrow, trying to match his long stride. As was customary for his meetings with Woodrow, he turned off his phone and removed the battery.

There was a biking trial behind Romeo’s apartment. Once they were deep in the woods, Woodrow snapped his finger. “Arms up,” he demanded. Tuck raised his arms and Woodrow patted him down aggressively. Tuck lifted his shirt to show he wasn’t wearing a wire, then unzipped his pants and dropped them to his knees as well.

“Good,” Woodrow said, looking around furtively. “How’s your reconnaissance going?” Woodrow asked.

“What do you expect?” Tuck whined. “How the fuck am I supposed to tap Giato’s phone without him knowing? Even when he’s drunk it’s like… sometimes I think he can read my mind.”

Woodrow puffed from his vape and released a thick cloud that smelled like ginger. “Could be. Giato’s a fascinating man, and there’s still a lot we don’t know about him. But there’s no way we could plan a heist for this long without him knowing. And trust me, he wouldn’t let this shit go on for this long without squashing both of us like fucking bugs.”

Tuck froze. “Do you mean literally?” he asked. He still had no idea what “demotion” meant--just that, when a dancer or a staffmember got struck with that punishment, they were never seen again.

Woodrow chuckled, letting out another plume of spicy smoke. “For you, that might be literal,” he said. “But don’t worry about tapping his phone. I’ve hacked into his private computer. Wasn’t easy, but I know how to access his private safe now.”

It seemed too easy. Tuck opened his mouth to say so, but staring up at the brick wall of a man looming over him, he lost his nerve.

“So are we really doing this in two weeks?” Tuck asked. The plan, as they’d discussed many times before, was for Tuck to drop off Giato at the club and wait four hours before sending Giato a text that a warning light on the limo had come on. Then Tuck would leave the club under the auspices of switching out for another limo at the garage; instead, Tuck would slip into Giato’s quarters using Woodrow’s security codes, emptying out Giato’s private safe. After leaving it in a private drop spot, he would return to the club to wait for Giato.

The next morning, per the plan, Tuck would flee the premises as soon as Giato was asleep. At that point, Woodrow would have hired a plane to get Tuck to a private island where the two would divide up their score and part ways to go into hiding, hoping Giato never found them.

“You got it,” Woodrow said. “So far I’ve anticipated every possible snag in the plan. This couldn’t be more seamless. You’ve got the easiest part of all of this. You just slip in, slip out, and live the rest of your life richer than you’ve ever been in your life.”

“I still don’t get what’s in the safe that’s so damned valuable,” Tuck said. “I mean, Giato’s money’s all, like… digital, right? What’s this priceless thing in his safe? And how do we turn it into money? Like, what pawn shop has a hundred million dollars?”

Woodrow smiled and gave TUck a shove. The smaller man stumbled, resenting how easily the lineman-sized security guard could push him around. “Look, little man, you’re just the gopher. You don’t need to worry about the intricacies of the plan. That’s for guys like me to handle, got it?” He barked out another dense cloud before shoving Tucker again. “I’m guessing I don’t have to arrange to have Romeo fired, right? Hopefully his dick in your mouth is enough to keep you from blabbing about this, right?”

Tuck shook his head and gazed through the woods toward Romeo’s apartment. He let out a deep sigh. “You know, I still wonder why I got chosen for the job,” he said wistfully.

Woodrow nodded and stared at the sky thoughtfully. “Obviously? With Romeo, he’s just got a size thing. Loves to dominate little guys. And in case you haven’t noticed, literally every guy Giato hires is as big as Romeo or bigger. And poor Romeo doesn’t have the time or the brainpower to grab a townie to fuck between shifts at the club.”

“No,” Tuck said, gritting his teeth--both in response to the cold as well as the truth Woodrow spat at him. “I mean, why did YOU pick me? This is a… massive job. And you usually treat me like I’m a fuck-up, or a peon…”

Woodrow stared down over his meaty packs at little Tuck, shivering on the trail before him. “Because a guy like you has been treated like a fuck-up and a peon your whole life, and you’re so desperate to prove that you’re not that you’re not going to fuck it up.” After a pause, he added, “also, because nobody expects a damned thing out of you--especially not Giato. You’re an illogical choice for a heist like this, which is why he won’t see it coming. Now beat it. And quit fucking Romeo. Giato knows about it too and he doesn’t like it. You should have a lower profile than that.”

Tuck’s angry stride built up to a jog, then a run, as he grew more desperate to put distance between himself and Woodrow. He hated the big bully, but the wealth he promised was mind boggling. He imagined a life like Giato’s, worry-free, his wishes becoming reality.

The alternative was to stay in Giato’s employee--well paid but incredibly lonely, huddling against Romeo’s bulk at night for comfort even though he knew the hunk despised him. Maybe he could trust Woodrow if it meant a way out. And how could he fault the enormous man for being cruel? Since he started working for Giato, everyone--every dancer, every security guard, even Giato’s shockingly well-built personal chef--had been cruel to him to some degree.

In fact, Tuck realized, the only person who had ever regarded him as anything other than a worthless runt, he realized, was Giato himself.

***

Giato lifted what looked like a mother-of-pearl makeup compact to his lap. It snapped open, and he lifted a tiny metal cylinder to his nose, huffing a small puff of cocaine before snapping it shut again. He spun his chair around so that Tuck stared at its leather back.

“Woodrow has worked for me for thirty years,” Giato said. Tuck was silent as he tried to work out the math--how old did that make Woodrow? How old did that make Giato?

“I think that’s why he thinks he can get away with this,” Tuck explained, his hands shaking ever since he decided to turn on the man. “Because you trust him.”

Giato spun the chair around and clapped his hands together. The resulting SNAP sound made Tuck twitch. “I’ve trusted that man with my entire enterprise,” Giato said. “Seven assassination attempts, thwarted by Woodrow. And yet here you are--a youth who’s worked for me for not even an entire season--claiming he’s trying to rob me.”

Tuck knew this was a mistake. He waited for Giato to wave his hand, or point, or blink, or however he triggered the horrifying “demotion” power he wielded. Maybe he would be vaporized, Tuck thought, or maybe he’d be tossed into a realm of infinite torment. He had no idea what was coming.

“And exactly how long has this plan been underway? How long have you two been scheming?”

Tuck’s gaze fell to his lap. “A month,” he said.

“Eyes up, turncoat,” Giato said. Tuck felt horrible. He hadn’t expected a handshake and a cookie when he approached Giato with news of the impending theft, but he was at least hoping for the relief that came with doing the right thing. He only felt doomed, and worthless.

“A month after I took you off the streets, rescued you from poverty,” Giato said, staring over his bridged fingers, “you began plotting to steal from me.”

“I didn’t…” Tuck chose his next words carefully. “I don’t feel like I have any power. At all. When Woodrow approached me--I didn’t feel like I had it in me to say no to him.”

“Oh? And what’s changed?”

Tuck sighed. “I think I figured out why he wanted me to help him.”

Giato tilted his head--like a cat, observing his prey.

“He wanted to sell me out, I think,” Tuck said. “Make off with the money and leave me here to take the blame.”

Giato nodded slowly. “Exactly what do you think you were here to steal?”

“Something valuable,” Tuck said. “Woodrow didn’t say.”

Giato suddenly stood. The scarves piled around his shoulders, drooling down his body, only served to make him look even more willowy. “Prove it.”

“What? I don’t--”

“Enact the plan, right now,” Giato said. “I’m assuming the plan took you into my office. Well, you’re here now. What was next?”

Tuck pointed weakly at the gold statue behind Giato’s head. “He said to turn the head…”

Giato gestured at the statue, that looked like a melting 6-foot man made of gold. Tuck gingerly approached it before grasping the head. “He said to twist it like I was trying to snap the neck off…” The head of the statue turned, but nothing else happened.

“Now what?” Giato asked, licking his thin lips, his grey eyes alight.

“Now...” Tuck began, relieved to perform these tasks in the light, with Giato nearby, instead of at night under threat of discovery. He turned and knelt at Giato’s desk, fumbling underneath for a button. “He said to be careful,” he said, gently sliding his fingers along. “There’s five buttons, but all but one will set the alarm off…” He clicked a button and heard a grinding sound behind him.

Giato clapped his hands. “Keep going, little thief! You’re almost there!”

This had become fun! Tuck approached the section of wall where he’d heard the sound and pushed. It swung open to a darkened room. Red lasers cut across the air in a grid pattern.

“He said the lasers are fake,” Tuck said, striding confidently through them, “but the trip-wire…” He ducked under the space he suspected the hidden wire to be. “And then the safe is in the floor,” he explained. He knelt and produced a small black pearl. “He said this works like a fob, unlocks the safe…” He waved the pearl over the square and it rose up, becoming a pedestal. Tuck produced a small letter-opener from his pocket and pried off the lid. A fuchsia glow burst forth, surprising Tuck so much he let the little brass blade clink to the floor.

“What the fuck…”

“So, you knew how to find my MOST PRIZED possession,” Giato said, placing a bony hand on Tuck’s shoulder, “but you didn’t even know what it was?”

Tuck peered inside to see a tall crystal vial, pulsing with soft purple light. Giato’s hand darted into the open pedestal, snatching out the vial. He cradled it gently in his hands.

“This,” he said, clasping his hands so tightly the light went dark, “is the secret to my success, young man. Have you ever wondered how I’ve populated my club with massive, beautiful men? Ever wondered how I found so many herculean men to work security? My maid is a 300 pound brazilian man with glutes I could shred cheese on. Do you think I just have a very specific aesthetic?”

Tuck was completely baffled. He had no answers, and his throat felt bone dry.

“More than anything else, have you ever wondered why I hired you?” He ran his thin fingers along Tuck’s underdeveloped arms, then poked him in his bony chest.

Tuck had another question. “What’s ‘demotion’?”

Giato laughed. He walked back to his office, clutching the vial tightly. Tuck followed.

“Valentino, the man who refused your entrance to the club the other night,” Giato said, having a seat at his desk. “He’s now a dancer at my other club--’Fluff’--where he gives lap dances to wealthy businessmen who like skinny little guys like him.”

Tuck raised an eyebrow, slowly starting to work things out.

“With a snap of my fingers, Valentino’s vaunted size evaporated. He popped like a soap bubble. He’s barely five feet tall now, not even a hundred pounds. Every man he’ll see for the rest of his life could squash him with one hand. He accepted my offer to work at my other club because he’s afraid of what life would be like out there, without all that muscle and brawn.”

A smile spread across Tuck’s face. Could all that be possible?

“Big men, like them--they start to believe they ARE their bodies,” Giato said. He held up the vial and pulled out the stopper. A waft of fuchsia mist trickled out. “They can move heavy things. They fill out ample space. They think that’s what they are. Make them thin and small, they become thin and small.”

Giato held the unstoppered bottle before Tuck’s gaze. “You, my friend, are thin and small. But you and I both know you’re so much more than that.”

“Why did you hire me?” Tuck suddenly blurted out. He remembered the night he begged for change from the strange-looking man walking to his limousine. The next day he was showered and had a home, and all he had to do was drive.

“Because I knew I was going to demote my limo-driver that same night,” Giato explained, “and because I saw a glimmer in you that reminded me of myself, many many years ago.”

“This whole robbery plan,” Tuck worked out aloud, “you had Woodrow tell me all that as a test, right?”

Giato shook his head and clucked his tongue. “No no no,” he said. “Woodrow was going to rob me. I have no idea what he planned to do with this vial--I’m not even sure he knew what it was I had in that safe--but your coming to me today was quite fortuitous. I had another test planned for you, young Tuck, but suffice it to say you’ve proved yourself.” He raised the vial to Tuck’s lips. “Now sip of the vial, and remember that for the rest of your life, you will be able to decide the measure of a man.”

The fluid tasted electric, like he had licked a battery. Tuck recoiled from the vial, wondering if he’d been poisoned. He gasped as he saw the purple light flowing through his veins, glowing through his skin. He swiped at it, trying to wipe it away. He could hear his heart pounding. The room began to spin. Giato cackled.

And then, Tuck took a breath. It felt like the first time he’d ever had oxygen in his lungs. He looked around, shocked at the tingle in his body. He felt warm and light. He felt like he could rise off the floor if he wanted to.

“You make them big,” Tuck realized suddenly. “You find pretty men and you make them into clydesdales.”

“I cannot create, nor can I destroy,” Giato said as he restoppered the bottle, “but otherwise, size is meaningless.”

Tuck flexed his fingers. There was so much he wanted to do!

“I need you to find me a new driver,” Giato explained.

Tuck’s smile started to fade. “Am I fired?”

Giato shook his head. “No, my boy! But you’re going to quit once you realize what I’ve given you.”

**

Tuck hadn’t waited in Romeo’s closet long before the door burst open. Romeo’s well-built physique was entangled with another, equally muscular dark-skinned man. Tuck recognized Vasquez, one of the bartenders from Ironsides.

Tuck felt the pang of heartbreak for just a moment as he watched Vasquez wrap his thick arms around Romeo’s hefty body, heaving him off the ground and tossing him on the bed like he was nothing. Tuck’s arms would have torn off at the shoulder if he’d even attempted that. He remembered Woodrow’s words, that Romeo had a thing for little guys. Clearly he wasn’t limited to that, Tuck thought. The two men were like tanned rhinoceroses as they undulated on the bed, their massive muscles grinding and heaving, building up a sweat almost immediately. Tuck considered what it would be like to be between the two of them. He’d be squashed in a moment! He considered a moment pinned between their brawny pecs, feeling all that hard flesh pressing in on all sides.

Then he felt it within him… a low vibration, starting to crescendo. He felt whatever it was within him spread out, invisibly, toward the two men on the bed. Size was nothing, he reminded himself.

He knew he’d connected once Romeo’s scent filled his sinuses. Even from behind the closet door he felt as if Romeo’s hard, warm flesh was pressing against him. Tuck clenched his fists and he could almost feel Romeo’s meaty pecs in his grip.

And then he pulled, gently at first. He knew instinctively that everything that Romeo was now belonged to Tuck. He felt his own clothes becoming tight, heard the tear in his sleeves, felt his line of sight rising as his shoes became murderously tight…

Vasquez lay on the bed with his face buried in a pillow, moaning with his back arched. He never noticed when the 260 pound blond musclehunk behind him deflated, leaving behind an angel-faced little man, barely as big as Vasquez’ bulging, muscular leg. The latino hulk paused when he realized the vigorous pounding behind him had died out.

Romeo, still in the throes of his passion, continued to thrust, barely aware that, perched on Vasquez’ glutes, his legs now kicked in the air. When Tuck burst from the closet, Romeo squealed in a shrill, high voice that shocked all three of them.

“Wh-who the fuck…” Romeo said, leaping to his feet, doubling up his little fists. The blonde dancer couldn’t believe he was looking UP at a man the size of a pro bodybuilder stomping toward him.

“Jesus, look at you!” Tuck exclaimed in a rumbling roar. Romeo finally looked down at himself. Vasquez pulled blankets over his naked body, as baffled by his blonde brute’s disappearance as he was by these two men. Tuck grabbed Romeo by his skinny arms and held him in the air, shaking him. The shredded polo shirt and khaki pants fell away in bits as Tuck’s enlarged frame moved about.

“What--what the… who are you?”

Tuck tossed Romeo away, still unaware of his strength. The little men went flying, crying out as he rolled across the floor.

“I wonder,” Tuck said as he watched the scrawny blonde try to collect himself from the floor, “if I could pull more out of you… Maybe make you disappear completely!” He extended a hand, although it was mostly for show. He could latch onto the dim flicker of Romeo’s remaining energy without moving a muscle.

Vasquez’s tackle caught Tuck totally by surprise. The huge bartender hit Tuck like a wrecking ball, knocking him to the ground. Tuck gasped for air as a big fist caught the side of his head.

“Dammit!” Tuck said, throwing up his big arms to block. His first instinct was to fight back with his fists, but then he sensed the beacon of energy bursting from Vasquez’ 6’5” frame. Plucking it away from him was nothing.

Tuck roared again as he exploded from his clothes. He was on all fours at this point, feeling his melon-sized heart pounding in his chest. “Holy…” His voice was a low rumble like an engine now. He stood up, shocked that he was within inches of the ceiling. His eyes lit up as he inspected his inhumanly massive frame, stuffed with rock-hard, veiny muscles. The big cock swinging between his legs was just the cherry on top.

Romeo and Vasquez, now 5’ tall pipsqueaks, crawled toward each other, wrapping their emaciated arms around each other for comfort. The two whimpered in disbelief.

“That’s right you little shits,” Tuck roared as he realized the shadow he cast swallowed up both of the little runts easily. “Why don’t you guys finger each other and cry about all you’ve lost.” Tuck’s dick twitched as he watched the little guys doing exactly that. He yanked the comforter off Romeo’s bed and tied it around his waist as a makeshift loincloth. “Good news, boys,” Tuck explained. “Giato’s gonna need a new limo driver. Whoever doesn’t get the job can go work at Fluff. I hear the clientele there is VERY grabby!” He laughed as he walked toward the door. It was an effort to squeeze out, and he heard the doorframe groan and crack as he forced his shoulders through.

**

Woodrow was pacing around the woods near Romeo’s apartment as the sun came up, just as Tuck had requested in his text message. Clearly the loutish security head was worried when Giato’s driver hadn’t shown up to work the night before, especially when Romeo hadn’t shown either. Tuck could see the panic in the big guy’s eyes even from a distance.

Tuck estimated he had to weigh somewhere around 500 pounds. He looked like three Tarzans had been smushed together, especially with Romeo’s blanket barely covering up his huge dick. All that size seemed so stupid, he realized. Of course he could stomp down to Woodrow then, snap arms Tuck used to marvel at like twigs and hurl him a hundred feet in the air, but that seemed so clumsy and crude.

He was careful to step as lightly as his 8-foot tall form could as he approached Woodrow from behind. The rustling of the trees, like a dinosaur was approaching, gave him away. The look in Woodrow’s eyes, staring up as his jaw went slack, was worth every cruel word the security chief had slung at him.

“Hello there, Woodrow,” Tuck said as he presented the largest human body in the world. Despite how silly all that muscle seemed to him now, he knew it still had meaning in Woodrow’s eyes. His former bully didn’t know Tuck wouldn’t use his new power to fold him in half. He grabbed for the gun in his belt and Tuck paused, unsure how his new size could handle bullets.

“What th--how th--” Woodrow seemed unable to form a complete clause.

“Do you recognize me at least?” Tuck began. “It’s me! Tuck!”

Woodrow’s grip on his gun lessened as he realized it was true. “B-but… this isn’t… this isn’t possible!”

“Oh, it is! And it’s all thanks to you!” Tuck said. He knelt to lessen the size disparity, but still towered a full head over Woodrow.

“You… you stole it?” Woodrow said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“So you DID know what was in there,” Tuck said. “See, I wasn’t sure if you knew what the prize even was once I found out.”

“Did you… did you drink it all?” Woodrow asked.

Tuck shook his head. “There’s still some left. Why, do you want some?”

Woodrow looked around suspiciously. He took a step toward the giant man. “How’d you… I mean, how did you not get caught? How’d you get it without me even knowing?”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Tuck boomed. He held out a closed fist. “C’mon over. I’ll share what I got. You deserve it, after all!”

Woodrow approached the closed fist, placing his much smaller hands on it. He never saw the cheshire grin spread across Tucker’s face.

The change happened in less than an instant. Woodrow’s body exploded with size, decimating his clothes, before he could even make a sound. Suddenly, Woodrow was nearly spherical with muscle mass--all that Tuck had stolen from Romeo and Vasquez proving too much to add to Woodrow’s already oversized body.

Woodrow stood like a giant starfish, arms and legs so bloated with muscle they were forced out straight. His traps and chest rose so high and tight that they rose up over his relatively tiny head. Panicked eyes darted around as Woodrow’s body, which had grown out rather than growing up, slowly started to tilt backward. He wiggled his fingers and toes, the most movement his rock-hard body could manage, as he slowly tilted backward. His descent was stopped by his titanic glutes. He wobbled back and forth, completely immobilized by his mass.

Tuck, back to his normal size, retied the blanket into a toga before walking around the meteor of muscle. He reached out and patted it, smirking as he heard Woodrow moan and whimper. When he goat around the big mound of man, he saw Woodrow’s muscle-packed face flexed so tightly that he could barely pry his lips apart.

“So stupid,” Tuck said as he admired his work. “You idiots think you are your bodies. Well, good news, Woodrow: now you are!” He gently patted Woodrow’s face as the man squealed and gurgled. “I’m out of here, Woodrow. Enjoy the fruits of your scheming. I’m going to go explore a whole new world. I’m thinking I may try dating women for awhile. Good luck! I hope Giato’s not the next one to find you, for your sake.”

As Tuck walked away, he heard Woodrow trying to form words, unable to do much more than babble incoherently. Tuck hastened his pace, feeling more free than he’d ever been.