Grady Can't Be Beat

[6 word request: Man's Superpower: Wins Any Measurement Wager]

The big musclehead stomped into Global Gym one hour into Robbie’s first day behind the front desk. He had a duffelbag over his beefy shoulder, his massive quads squeezed into tight blue spandex, his hulking torso barely clad in a flimsy stringer tee. He wasn’t the biggest guy Robbie had seen (even that day; Global Gym had a lot of quadruple-extra-large regulars) but the way he stomped around suggested an incomparable ego. Robbie noted the freak’s perfectly shorn head and his neon-pink sunglasses as he tossed his bag to the floor and whipped out his wallet.

“Day pass,” he said in a deep, booming voice. Robbie’s first impulse was just to wave the guy in--damn, he was intimidating as HELL, Robbie thought as the big beast smirked at him and scanned the gym floor--but with a shaky hand, he swiped the guy’s card, checking the name before handing it back: Grady Watt.

It was Morton, the maintenance guy, who recognized Grady. He paused his cleaning for a moment, leaning on his mop, and turned to Robbie, who was still dumbstruck behind the desk in Grady’s wake.

“Oh, this doesn’t look good,” Morton said, running a filthy hand nervously through his wispy hair. “I’ve seen that guy on Instagram. He muscles his way into a gym, puts everyone to shame, then leaves there after he’s proven he’s the biggest and strongest.”

Robbie looked over at Grady, who was prowling past the power racks as if he was looking for prey. “I mean, he’s big, but there are bigger guys here.”

As if Grady had heard Robbie’s statement, he stomped back to the front. “Who’s got the biggest arms in this gym?” he demanded, his own guns flexing and bouncing as if getting ready for a confrontation.

“Uh, I don’t--” Robbie began. Morton interjected.

“Cassius Coe, easily, has the biggest,” Morton said.

“Where’s this guy?” Grady demanded, his posture suddenly straightening up.

“I think he hit the showers,” Morton thought, staring at the ceiling dreamily. “Yeah, he’d be in the locker room right now.”

Grady didn’t even wait until Morton had finished his sentence before he was off, lumbering toward the locker rooms. Cassius emerged before Grady arrived. Big Cassius, freshly showered, was wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans, but it was obvious even in plain clothes that he had inhumanly bulky arms, almost disproportionately large against his otherwise massive body.

Grady tossed his bag to the floor. “How big are your arms?” he demanded.

Cassius, caught off guard, looked around quizzically. “Uh, 25 inches,” he said in his deep voice.

Grady had a tape measure out immediately. “Prove it,” he said, pulling it out to its full length.

Cassius seemed put off but obliged, producing a massive gun for measurement with the explanation, “I did shoulder day today, so there’s a chance they might not be as big as arm day.”

25 ¼, Grady measured. “Not bad,” he said, cricking his neck each way as if he was getting ready for a stunt. “Now do mine.”

Cassius still seemed put off, but did as he was told. Grady’s measured 23 inches--but a moment after Cassius noted the measurement, there was a sound like stretching rubber and Grady’s arms suddenly bloated with size. Cassius noted with amazement as he examined the suddenly much bigger arms that Grady’s measured 26 ½ inches around each.

“Hell yeah,” Grady said, strutting away. “I never lose any measurement contest.”

Bick McQuoyle, the gym’s reigning powerlifting champion, was just getting himself geared up to bench 675 when Grady took note of the big man. Bick benched the bar, bending under the weight of the 7 plates on each side, for a good five reps before racking it with a roar. Grady shook his head, approaching the bench.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” he said. Bick was caught off guard--normally a very gentle giant, for as strong as he was--but allowed Grady to hop onto the bench, where he easily busted out ten reps before slamming the weight back down with a boom that echoed across the gym, freezing everyone in their tracks. When Grady stood back up, he squared up against the brick-shithouse-built Bick. Grady’s whole body seemed to have swollen up; before the demonstration, big neckless Bick was the bulkier of the two, but Grady had now outsized him.

“That’s what he does,” Morris said as Grady went looking for his next challenge. “I dunno what kind of hoo-doo magic he’s got, but he can’t lose a challenge. It’s crazy.”

“Good god,” said a thin man to his equally reedy friend as they left the locker room. “I’ve never seen a dick that big--can’t believe he was just strutting around naked like that!”

Robbie wasn’t sure whose dick was being referred to, but Grady nearly sprinted to the locker room. When he emerged, his spandex pants now had an overstuffed bulge in the front the bounced with every step. Grady’s smug look made Robbie’s blood boil as he strutted around, putting every other guy’s manhood to shame.

“So what, he just gets to be better than everyone, then just leaves?” Robbie asked as Grady approached a bodybuilder with long, silky hair like a romance novel cover model.

“Yeah, he doesn’t cause any real harm,” Morris explained, as Grady’s bald head exploded with luxurious blodne hair, longer and curlier than the bodybuilder he’d just challenged. “He just gives people a slice of humble pie, gives everyone a headache, then leaves to go get bigger and better somewhere else.”

Robbie watched Grady approaching a rower from the university’s crew team and knew he had to do something. He scanned the floor as ideas percolated in his head. A moment later, Grady was now staring down at the 6’10” rower, who sheepishly scurried away from the enormous brute. Then Robbie’s eyes landed on old Morris, who shook his head and went back to mopping.

“Wait! Morris!” Robbie said, grabbing the janitor by the arm. He dragged the old guy toward Grady, who now loomed over the room like a musclebound god with his massive mane of hair and a bulge the size of a large dog. “Hey, Grady!” Robbie called up to the cocky brute, who was surveying the crowd with his fists on his hips. “Meet Morris! He says nobody here stinks as bad as he does!”

Morris’ face went white. “Uh, Robbie? You mind not screaming that kinda stuff about me at the top of your lungs? I do spend all day plunging toilets after bodybuilders use them, so…”

Grady raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, a massive fart ripped from his enormous glutes. Grady was shocked at the eruption, slapping thick hands over his bouncing ass as if he could shield the room from the rolling methane fog.

“Good god!” nearby gym-goers screamed, struggling to get away from the rank smell as a few more farts burst forth, echoing through the gym.

Grady’s pride had been obliterated; those who weren’t fleeing from the stench were laughing as the herculean beast looked shameful about his uncontrollable flatulence.

“Legend has it Morris has the smallest dick in this gym!” Robbie said, clapping a hand on old Morris’ schlubby shoulder.

“Jesus!” Morris said, shoving Robbie away. “The fuck are you doing, screaming that shit?”

Instantly, Grady’s big dick deflated until it was just a tiny nub, made to look smaller by the rest of his gargantuan body.

Morris, beet red, suddenly realized the laughter in the gym wasn’t directed at him--it was directed at Grady! Robbie’s plan seemed to become evident to him and a smile went across the gym. “And you know, Robbie, I’m easily the oldest fucker in this gym by a longshot!” His leathery, wrinkled face puckered into a smile.

Grady seemed to want to retort, but whatever he had to say died on his lips as his body aged fifty years instantly. All of his massive bulk sagged until it was just weak, lumpy flesh. His posture curled until he was hunched over, his hair streaking with grey until it blew away in wisps. Grady, still over 7 feet tall, wobbled back and forth as arthritis plagued his joints. A weak moan escaped from his lips as the crowd continued to laugh, the impressive deity of masculinity withering before their very eyes.

“Yeah, Morris is easily the softest guy in here!” Robbie said. “Anyone here could beat his ass!”

With that final challenge, Grady’s body deflated. He let out a weak moan as his bones contracted, all of his spoiled bulk evaporating until he stood a head shorter than both of them. His spandex and tank top looked ridiculous on him now. Morris stepped forward, hands on his hips, and gave little Grady a gentle shove. The twisted imp of a man squeaked in surprise and fled for the door.

“And stay out!” Morris said, a rumble of applause going up as Morris tossed Grady’s heavy duffel bag after him. It hit the weak little man, knocking him off his feet. Grady was so weak he could barely open his own truck door. He scrambled into the driver’s seat clumsily and peeled out of the parking lot.

They never heard from Grady again; Robbie never knew if he found a new gym to grow bigger and better than anyone or if the loophole in his magical abilities kept him from pushing the limits. But they knew he’d never be back to Global Gym again.