Twiceton Flextival

Just through the gates of the Twiceton Flextival, many bearish town residents were seen enjoying delicious frozen custard treats piled high on waffle cones. The line for the Kustard Kiosk was long but moved quickly. The two beefy dwarves in clown makeup working at the kiosk scooped quickly, keeping the line moving. It appeared only chocolate and vanilla custard were available but nobody complained; it was too damned delicious!

When those in line reached the counter, they saw where the custard came from: Brandon Curry and Jeff Long each lay on a platform in only a set of posing trunks, motionless except for their grimacing faces. They had each been transformed into living custard (Brandon into chocolate, Jeff into vanilla bean) and they moaned and whimpered each time a part of their muscular mass was scooped away.

“Oh geez,” Brandon winced as a dwarf scooped away a substantial part of his pec, leaving a creamy custard crater in its wake. What looked like sweat pouring off the Olympia winner’s face was actually some of his custard body slowly melting in the sun. A dwarf scooped up his lower abs, then his obliques and Brandon exhaled through gritted teeth as he watched his perfectly sculpted body disappearing, scoop by scoop.

“It doesn’t hurt them,” one of the dwarves explained. “Actually, it feels orgasmic. Their roid-shrunken pea-brains are just having a hard time processing the sensation.”

“Why’s everyone getting so much damned chocolate?” Brandon yelped, noticing that Jeff’s body, which was still starting to dribble away, had been barely touched by the dwarves at the counter.

One of the dwarves approached Brandon with a devilish smile and yanked back the massive man’s tight green posing trunks. With a flourish, the dwarf sank the scoop deep into Brandon’s groin. The Olympian let out a shockingly high-pitched squeal as he watched his manhood reduced to a mound of dessert and mashed into a cone. He watched the hirsute town resident walk away, licking at what used to be his own cock. He could still feel it!

“Not my dick, man! Not my dick…”

“That’s enough out of you!” One of the dwarves said. The next scoop went right into Brandon’s face, scooping away his mouth. Brandon couldn’t make any more sound now. His eyes darted back and forth as more and more of him was scooped away, the sensation of dozens of tongues lapping at his body driving him crazy.

“We’re almost out of chocolate!” said one of the dwarves. He looked over at Luke, whose eyes went wide as he noticed the dwarf’s attention on him. “Attention! Two-for-one scoops of vanilla for the next hour!”

“No, no!” Jeff begged as scoops dug into his gleaming muscles.

The demand for chocolate didn’t die out despite the special offer, and soon all that was left of Brandon were his posing trunks. One of the dwarves grabbed the trunks and brought them to a bin out back atop a dozen other posing trunks, also sticky with custard residue of the bodybuilders that had once worn them.

“Bring in Dexter Jackson!” one of the dwarves shouted.

In the center of the Flextival was a huge, colorful pinata. Closer inspection revealed it to be in the shape of Flex Lewis. It was colorful, made with fluttery paper, but it appeared to be modeled after the 212 Olympia champ in a pair of red posing trunks. Flextival patrons were trading tickets for a chance to take a blindfolded swipe at the pinata.

“Oh… oh gawd…” moaned the pinata in a Welsh accent. Those standing nearby could see the pinata’s fluttery paper mache fingers gently wiggling and its eyes bulging. “Lower, aim lower…” Then it looked like the pinata was changing its shape--angling its back, thrusting its groin forward. “Hit there,” the pinata begged. Apparently, each whack was giving the pinata an orgasmic rush.

Finally a patron hit the pinata square on its out-thrust package. When it busted open, the pinata let out a low drawn-out moan. Out poured little gummy candies in the shape of musclemen flexing. The crowd surrounding the occasion ran forward to grab them. Those who gobbled back a handful of the gummies felt their own muscles swell as some of Flex Lewis’ mass became their own. Burly bears got bigger, stretching their tight tanks to their limits as pecs and glutes blew up like rising dough. Meanwhile the poor pinata fell in pieces that scattered in the wind. The pinata’s face, still whole, lay on the ground, letting out a pleasant growl and licking its lips.