More Than Antoine Could Handle Part 3 (Obedient Ant)

Part 1 here 

Part 2 here 

Antoine had a dream that he was onstage, flexing his incredible physique to a crowd of adoring women. He looked down at his packed posers and gave them a gentle adjustment before hitting a most muscular pose. He felt enormous. The crowd went wild. All that hard work, all that dedication, truly paid off, he thought as he threw an arm behind his head and flexed his abdomen. The ladies were rushing the stage now! Shit, he thought; I won’t need security to intervene. I can handle these chicks myself.

Something smashed the ground so hard it nearly knocked Antoine off his feet. Toots stood behind him, ten feet tall and leering down at Antoine. “Out of the way, squirt,” he said, shoving Antoine’s ripped 270 pound physique to the floor with ease. “These ladies are all mine.”

Antoine got to his feet, about to run from the giant man, but Reggie appeared behind him, also towering over him. “Nice panties, little man!” As Antoine sprinted backstage, Reggie reached down and grabbed the back of his posers. Antoine yelped at the merciless wedgie that lifted him right off the floor, his cock and balls getting crushed as he kicked his legs helplessly. Toots let him go and he hit the ground hard.

When he got to his feet the arena was empty. Fuck, how had he missed all those women? Maybe he could still catch them, as long as Reggie and Toots weren’t hiding somewhere backstage. But the ground shook and debris tumbled down on him. He stared up at a Godzilla-sized Chance, flexing bigger muscles than Antoine had ever seen.

There was nowhere to run. Chance’s giant hand snatched Antoine off the ground like he was a bug. The fingers crushed in on him; his massive muscles were useless. He yelped, expecting to be pulped in the massive fist, until the hand open up, tilting. Antoine flailed his bulging arms as he toppled through space, Chance’s laugh hitting him like a sonic boom as he tumbled toward that open mouth, those white teeth and the darkness beyond…

Antoine started awake, tumbling off the couch and faceplanting the carpet. Where the fuck am I? One look at his scrawny arms and he remembered: he slept on the couch now. In the darkness he could barely make out Toots flopped sideways over his recliner, his head cocked back as his snoring roared. Reggie was curled up in a ball on his chaise lounge. The room stunk of BO and pot smoke, plus a thick whiskey haze surrounding Reggie. No way was Antoine going to fall back asleep now. He quietly padded out of the room into the kitchen. Might as well get started on his chores early.

Toots had donated his clothes so Antoine didn't run around naked. Ever after washing them, Antoine tossed the underwear. Antoine still swam in the brightly colored button down and cargo shorts. Every few steps he had to yank his belt back up.

As he collected cans strewn around the hallway and kitchen, he tried to ignore the moaning coming from his room upstairs; Chance’s deep grunts and guttural declarations of superiority, plus some woman’s shrieks and expletives.

“Feel that dick? That’s the dick of a god!”

“Fuck! Fuck me!”

The two losers in the living room continued to snore.

Antoine dropped the clinking aluminum-filled bag and sank to his knees, focusing on a calming breath. This will be over eventually, he told himself. I’ll go back to being me and these guys will be fucking gone. He had a crick in the neck from couch sleeping. As he massaged out the ache, he marveled at how bony it felt--how bony his hand was, how narrow his shoulders were, how skinny his legs were. It had been seven days and he still wasn’t used to being so small.

Antoine started rinsing the high pile of dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. He heard someone clumsily stomping down the stairs along with a woman’s labored breathing. He smelled the sharpness of her perfume and the sour tang of wine that must have been coming out of her pores at this point.

He looked up in shock to see his neighbor Tammy walk in. He wasn’t used to seeing anyone other than the guys, let alone someone he knew well. She ran a hand through her ragged hair and walked like her hips were sore. She smiled, her eyelids never opening more than halfway.

“Hey, uh, Chance said to make him his protein shake and bring it upstairs,” she said with a ditzy smile. Antoine sneered at her, looked back the the half-loaded dishwasher, and then sighed.

“I’m gonna have to scrub out a shaker, but I’ll get right on it,” he said without any fight.

Tammy didn’t leave. Her presence felt like more of an invasion every second she didn’t detect Antoine’s desire to ignore her. She leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. She lit up a cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in here,” Antoine said. He hated the way his voice sounded like he was whining when he was angry. It was impossible to command respect when you sounded like your balls never dropped.

She smirked, said, “Sorry!” and dropped the lit cigarette in a can in the bag Antoine had collected and leaned against the back door. It sizzled. She wafted the air with her hands. “So, are you like… the maid or something?”

Antoine cocked his head to his side. He had known Tammy for four years! (And she’d spent all four of those years trying to get into Antoine’s bedroom.) “I live here,” he said flatly.

“Are you like,” she continued, drawing a circle in the air with her left hand as she searched for the word, “Chance’s assistant? I noticed you have a little French accent,” she added. “Are you from Antoine’s country? France or whatever?”

“Canada,” Antoine corrected through gritted teeth. “And I’m Antoine’s brother.” She didn’t ask for more information, but he added, “He’s out of town right now.”

She rubbed her hip thrusters and winced, still smiling. “What’s it like living with two guys like Antoine and Chance? I mean, I bet the protein farts alone are lethal! And having those guys stomp around… you probably have to be careful you don’t get stepped on!”

“I’ve got a lot to do,” Antoine said. She shrugged and headed for the door. “And by the way, carbs cause farts, not protein. Cheap whey will fuck up your digestive system pretty royally, but… I don’t use cheap whey.”

“You should start!” she said as she opened the front door. “You could really put on some good size, I bet, if you started taking tips from those big dudes you live with!”

Chance was in the shower when Antoine entered his own bedroom with the protein shake he had demanded. The place stunk of sweat and sex, so thick Antoine choked. He rushed to open a couple of windows to let out the fumes.

Antoine opened the bathroom door a crack and leaned into the humid room, shouting over the shower spray, “Your protein shake is out here.” He tried not to look in the direction of the shower--the last thing he wanted to see was Chance’s enormous body squeezed into his shower. He still caught a flash of all that tan flesh in the steamy mirror, but he started to duck out.

“Hold up, little buddy!” Chance said. “Wait in my room while I finish up.”

My room, Antoine thought bitterly as he started to straighten the place up. He pulled back the quilt but threw it back when he saw the cum-stained bedsheets. He counted thirteen White Claw cans littering the floor. Every day was a party day for these fuckers.

“Good man,” Chance said as he stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a skimpy towel. Every footstep shook the floor. Antoine cringed, seeing all that muscle from this low vantage point. His dream was still fresh in his memory. “I like that you’re doing what you’re told now. At first it was a real waste of time and energy fighting me every step of the way. Finally figured out I always get what I want, hunh?”

Antoine shrugged. “You told me you’d make me big again if I did what you said. I was just too dumb to ask for a timeframe for it all.”

Chance shrugged--his shoulders and traps crunched up and Antoine winced knowing all that size used to be his. “Anyway, I’ve got a new task for you.”

“What? You want me to wipe your boys’ asses now?” Antoine snapped. God, it felt good to fire back at this punk, especially after the compliment about his obedience.

Chance dropped his towel--Antoine looked away, but not before he saw Chance’s long dick swinging between giant quads--and started rifling through the drawers in Antoine’s bureau. “The other guys bully you, don’t they?” he said.

“What, you haven’t noticed? They literally gave me a swirly yesterday. I got my head dunked in my own goddamned toilet. They’re lucky I don't superglue their dicks to their bellies while they sleep.”

Chance chuckled as he located Antoine’s posing trunks. He yanked out one velvet maroon pair, one neon green, and a shiny royal blue. “If you do that, I’ll back you up,” Chance said. “I get really tired of them, to be honest. If they get out of line, just say the word. I’ll make them a stain on the carpet.”

Antoine was disarmed by Chance’s sudden consideration. “You always this charitable after you’ve blown a load?”

“Blown 8 loads, my friend,” Chance added. “Okay, turn around. I want to know which of these posing trunks looks best on me.”

"I thought you liked the purple ones?" Antoine asked.

"Naw, I busted those trying to get them off."

Antoine turned around to see Chance pulling the maroon posers up over his huge legs, stuffing his big cock and balls inside. “You look like 10 liters shoved into an 8 liter bucket.”

Chance admired himself in the mirror. “Okay, forget the dick. Obviously I’m way bigger than you there. How about the color? And the cut? This look good on my physique?”

Antoine eyed up the rippling, vascular giant and let out a sigh. “I think the blue ones would look better. You’ve got a huge butt, so the cut will show that off better.”

Chance hurried out of the posers, pulling on the blue ones. He smiled as he bounced his pecs in the mirror.

“I can’t help but notice there’s no used condoms in here...” Antoine said as he kicked at the carpet.

“Oh, yeah, I fuckin’ rawdogged that skank,” Chance said. “That chick is seriously nuts for muscles. She soaked her panties just getting her hands on all this. I can’t believe you’ve never fucked her before!”

“So, if she gets pregnant with your baby, will it be big like you are now?” Antoine cringed as another thought crossed his mine. “Will it be kind of my baby in a way?”

“Forget that,” Chance said. He had his phone out. He swiped to a video and held it up for Antoine to see. The little man sighed when he saw that it was from his own Instagram page, taken just two weeks before. God, he wished he was that big again so bad! He feared the day he woke up and wasn’t surprised to be 80 pounds. “Show me how to do all this stuff,” Chance demanded.

“Posing?” Antoine said. “I already taught you how to pose.”

“You showed me but you didn’t teach me,” Chance said, his face lighting up. “Dude, it’s one thing to be this massive, but you have a skill, man. Look how you make all that mass move? It’s like you know how to showcase your size perfectly. Look how fucking impressive you look! And I’m even bigger than you were. I want to know how you do that.”

Antoine sighed and joined Chance in front of the mirror. He only came up to the center of Chance’s abs. “Okay, it’ll be hard, because I can’t reach your arms or back to adjust you, but…” Antoine hit a side chest pose. It looked ridiculous at his size and he worried he might sprain his tiny pec if he held it too long.

“Like this?”

Chance moved the big body clumsily, clearly lacking Antoine’s decade of experience as a bodybuilder. At one point, Chance turned too quickly and the silky overstuffed bulge mashed against Antoine’s face.

Chance stuck out a taunting tongue. “Sorry about that, little guy,” he said. “I gotta be more careful with all this size…”

Antoine dragged his desk chair over and stood on it, directing Chance through each mandatory pose.

After a half hour of progress, Antoine nodded his head. “You’re not gonna win any contests today, but you’re definitely picking it up. All that size isn’t easy to lug around, is it?”

Chance nudged the two discarded pairs of trunks with his feet. “You try one on. I want to see how it looks on you.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Antoine protested. “It’s gonna look stupid, you know that.”

“C’mon,” Chance pleaded. “Remember, obedience makes this go by quicker.”

Antoine grabbed the maroon pair and stepped into it. The pouch of the posers hung halfway down his scrawny thighs. The waist looked like a hula hoop on Antoine’s narrow hips.

“Damn,” Chance said. “Kind of funny, hunh? I’m almost too big for these things and you’re way too small.”

“Really fucking hilarious,” Antoine said, dropping the posers. He balled them up in his hand and pitched it at the mirror. “I’ve still got more chores to do downstairs and your knucklehead friend will be up soon. Can I go?”

Chance sat down on the bed, bringing his eyeline closer to little Antoine’s. “I want to do a competition. Like you do. I want you to coach me through it.”

Antoine evaluated Chance’s face, searching for evidence this was a joke. “Are you fucking serious?” he finally said.

"I've done everything I can with all this muscle," Chance explained. "I humiliated every bouncer who ever gave me shit, made all my exes' new boyfriends shit their pants, and getting laid is so easy like this it's almost not even fun. Almost. I want to be an athlete. I want a trophy."

“You can’t do a competition,” he said. “You didn’t earn this body!”

“Yeah, but YOU did!” Chance protested in a voice so shockingly loud Antoine jumped. He took a breath and spoke more softly: “Most of it, anyway. I mean you built the muscles, and if you teach me how to do it, it’s like it’s you in charge of showing them off. C’mon, man!”

Antoine shook his head firmly. “You’ve eaten pizza three times a day every day this week and your body hasn’t changed a bit,” he said, noting that the same was true for himself. “Your body’s locked like that somehow. You’re not stepping onstage next to guys who sacrificed and busted their ass to steal a trophy without doing any work.” Antoine headed to the door as he continued his tirade: “And who’s to say you won’t see a bigger guy than you there? You’re huge, sure, but you’re not the biggest in the world. There are some freaks weighing way over 300 pounds who could actually beat you, stolen muscle or not. What are you going to do then, snap your fingers and make them tiny? And turn into a fucking muscle blimp and steal the whole show? No way.”

“I promise I won’t use my powers,” Chance said. His entire demeanor had changed. Gone was the commanding alpha who had been strutting around Antoine’s house tossing out orders with no remorse. He once again seemed like the punk kid Antoine knew he was inside.

“I’m sorry,” Antoine said. Just as the door was about to slam shut, Chance stomped his foot. The whole house shook.

“You fucking turn me down on this and I’ll make sure you’re never getting your body back,” Chance said.

Antoine shook his head. “It’s so unfair to shake that at me so much,” Antoine said. “I’ve done everything you and your shithead friends asked me to. I’ve been acting like a guest in my own house to my neighbors, I lied to the police when they wondered where you guys ended up, I sleep on my own goddamned couch while you fill my bed with your fucking loads…”

“That’s the deal,” Chance said. “So what if it’s unfair? It’s all about who has the power, don’t forget.”

“And since I have something you want,” Antoine snapped back, “it ‘looks like I have the power!” He couldn’t escape the fact that he was purposely mouthing off from the hallway, far from Chance’s furious fists if the big man lost his temper.

“A guy named Regan Grimes was here looking for you yesterday,” Chance said.

Antoine took a few steps back in the room. “When? What did he say?”

Chance smiled. “You were out grocery shopping for us. He wanted to talk to you. He ended up inviting me to train with him. I think I might.”

“Your form’s probably terrible,” Antoine said. “You’ve never lifted a weight in your life. Regan’s gonna laugh you out of that gym no matter how big you are.”

“Well let’s see how cocky Regan is when he’s as little as you,” Chance said. His mouth was a straight line. His brows were furrowed. “Reggie has been dying to add some size to his frame. We’ve all seen the way he looks at me when I walk around without my shirt on. Maybe you get yourself a skinny little playmate who can help you with the housework and Reggie and I can get jobs as strippers--at different clubs, for obvious reasons.”

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Once again, Antoine wasn’t able to manage anything more forceful than a whining plea.

“Or,” Chance said, digging his thumbs into his poser straps and giving them a twang, “you coach me to a competition. I tell those two assholes downstairs to get the fuck out, you help me win a trophy, and when it’s all over, you get all this back and you can go on with your stupid little muscle-obsessed life.”

Antoine stared at Chance, realizing for the thousandth time that he had no power there. He was going to have to do what Chance said.

“I’ll even let you sleep at the foot of the bed. Obviously I need the rest of the space,” Chance shrugged. He hit a few poses, his skill honed by Antoine’s coaching. “Look how far we’ve come in just a short while? Let’s get me up on that stage, big man!”

Antoine heard Toots coughing downstairs. He heard the gurgle of a bong and glanced at the clock. It was 5:45.

“Tell your fucknut friends they have an hour to get the fuck out of here,” Antoine said quietly. “And I don’t ever want to see them again.”

Chance grinned. “Oh yeah? And then what?”

Antoine shook his head. “Let’s start figuring out what show you’re going to do.”