Colt's Special Circumstances Part 2

[Shrinking, Muscle Growth, Bearification]

[Read part 1 here!]

It took Colt over an hour to knock his water bottle down. He repeatedly slammed his thick muscular shoulder into it until the screws came loose. Then he climbed the bars of the cage to the screws and twisted them with his hands.

Of course, at his size, despite his strength, he could only get a quarter turn at a time before he would have to rest. Periodically he would drop down to the cage’s floor and press the metal ball in the spout in so he could get some water. When he finally got the water bottle down, he heaved it with all of his strength to the cage.

It took some effort to stand it upright. Climbing underneath, he pressed hard--imagining he was setting a new deadlift PR at the gym--until he tilted it up and against the wall of his cage.

Then it was just a matter of climbing it to the top of the cage, unhooking the latch, and escaping. He had no idea how long it took--hours, but he wasn’t sure how many--and he spent the entire time twisted up in the fear of Reggie bursting through the door again.

After a while the escape seemed pointless. Reggie would do whatever he was going to do to Turner, then he would come back, infuriated at Colt’s escape. Reggie would no doubt dream up some new way to keep Colt contained over night. It would be demeaning (maybe he would scotch tape him to the wall or glue him to Reggie’s inner thigh?) and Reggie would be incredibly difficult to deal with for awhile.

Unless he got tired of Colt, and dropped him into the toilet like he was always threatening to do.

Nevertheless, Colt couldn’t just sit there while Reggie was out using his abilities on Turner. His heart broke at the idea of Turner getting plopped into his cage, naked, shrunken and confused. He’d be frightened and angry, maybe at Colt specifically. If not for Colt, it never would have happened, after all.

But then again, would it be so bad? Momentarily as he worked to free himself his mind would touch on the idea of having a shrunken Turner stay with him. Maybe they could forget about their lives and just live together. Reggie could take care of them as their bodies swollen into miniature piles of muscle. They would have each other; what else would they need?

That fantasy could never exist. Reggie would never allow Colt to fall for someone else. If he was out there, shrinking Turner, he was no doubt doing something to him to make sure Colt never saw him again.

Outside his cage, Colt looked down the table. To him, it was hundreds of feet to the floor. Nearby, he spotted Reggie’s wireless charger. It would be hard work, shimmying down the cord, and any mistake would be deadly.

Turner’s beautiful face flashed in his head, dissolving his fear. God damn, Colt thought--Turner actually liked him! He couldn’t let Reggie screw it up.

Colt was exhausted by the time he got halfway down the cord. When he was about fifteen feet down the cord, he let his muscular body drop, tucking into a roll as he hit the floor. He stumbled to his feet, walking like a newborn calf--he hadn’t been so exhausted since winter football drills.

The room was dark, but he was pretty sure he knew where Reggie’s cum had splatterred. It had mostly absorbed into the carpet, but Colt found enough residue to scoop a few cold handfuls into his mouth. “Come on,” he said, squeezing the carpet fibers to get more. He sucked on them, hoping to slurp enough to trigger the change.

Then he felt the tingle: a warm tickle started in his gut and spread to his extremities. His body seized a few times, his muscles locking in one massive flex, and then… The floor grew farther and farther away. He felt like he was shooting upward. Everything in the room passed by in a blur--and then he was full-sized again, kneeling, staring at a tiny speck of cum-stained carpet.

The door opened as he rose to full size. Perfect, he thought. He had three hours at this size before he would shrink again; just enough time to convince Reggie to undo whatever he had done to Turner. Colt cracked his knuckles. He knew it would take force.

“Whoa!” Reggie said, his eyes going wide as he saw Colt’s massive six-foot-five-inch frame bulging and flexing, a determined sneer on his face. “Man, I didn’t expect you to be all huge again. Fuck, can’t say I mind, either.” Reggie’s eyes traveled the length of Colt’s enormous form.

“Where is he?” Colt asked. Reggie looked genuinely confused. “Turner! What did you do to him!”

Reggie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, that football guy?” He chuckled. “Stand down, big guy. He’s fine. I promise. Soon as I got out of here, I forgot what I was even planning on doing. Not like I would have done it anyway! I was kind of drunk, but I’ve sobered up since then. Strong coffee has me thinking clearly.”

Colt was still cocked and ready to throw his weight around. He wasn’t sure he should believe Reggie’s story. “Prove it,” Colt said.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, big guy, re-fucking-lax! Honest. Your guy is safe. And honestly I’m sorry I got like that. You know it’s tough for me, sometimes…” He took a few steps closer to Colt’s enormous body, daring to put to hands on Colt’s big pecs. He flexed them to repel the contact, but Reggie persisted. He rubbed Colt’s chest before his hands traveled down Colt’s abs, tracing the lines between them until he made it to Colt’s thick, defined obliques.

“I’m not in the mood,” Colt said, but that didn’t stop Reggie. He leaned forward and licked Colt’s thick “cum-gutters” (as he called them). “Seriously, Reggie, back off!”

Reggie dropped to his knees. “Come on, big man,” he said as he lovingly nuzzled Colt’s dark pubes. “You got to swallow my cum--that’s how you got big again, right? Let me return the favor.”

Fuck, Colt thought as his body responded to Reggie’s administrations. He was still enraged, still wanted to throw Reggie up against the wall to teach him a lesson about how Colt should be treated when he was small, but he was also horny as hell. As Reggie swallowed him, his eyes rolled back.

He reached down and grabbed Reggie effortlessly from the ground. His little roommate wrapped his legs around him and kissed him deeply. The same man who had held Colt in his fist and shaken him nearly to death just a few hours before felt nearly weightless to Colt now.

In Reggie’s room he tossed his roommate to the bed. Reggie bounced, huffing lustily as he swung he kicked his legs up in the air. “Fuck me you fucking mountain! Plow me with that giant fucking cock you gorilla!”

Colt felt propelled by the night’s anxieties, fears and rage He fucked Reggie harder than ever before to remind the little man just how big Colt actually was--not that Reggie minded at all. Colt had to hold a pillow over Reggie’s face to drown out his squeals.

Colt fucked load after load out of Reggie--who came without even touching his cock each time. With every spurt, Colt felt more in control. Reggie’s cum was the key to his size. Look how easily I can get it? Anytime I want.

Colt roared when he finally came. He felt like he would blast poor Reggie through the wall--but as the orgasm subsided, his exhaustion hit him hard. He collapsed into the bed, out of breath, desperate for something to drink but too tired to do anything about it. Reggie snuggled up to him, forming the little spoon as Colt wrapped a big arm around him like he was a teddy bear. Then he slept.

Colt awoke with a start, disoriented when he didn’t see the bars of his cage. Reggie snored next to him. He glanced at the clock--4:30 am. He had no idea of knowing when he had grown, so he wasn’t sure how much time he had left. He knew he should stay put, especially with Reggie asleep, but he had to check on Turner.

Colt carefully slid his big body off the bed, freezing when all his weight finally left the bed. Reggie snored deeply. He tiptoed to the door, carefully opening the closet where his full-sized clothes were stashed.

Colt hastened his pace when Turner didn’t respond to his first two texts. Reggie was a lot of things, but a liar he wasn’t. He also wasn’t a sociopath; sure, he got jealous, but there was no way he would have made good on his threats.

Colt continued to tell himself this as Turner’s building came into view. Covington Hall, where all the athletes lived; where Colt had lived, back before he “disappeared.”

He skipped the elevators, choosing instead to take the stairs two at a time. Turner was on the third floor. As Colt burst through the door, he almost crashed into Jeep McNeil, the team’s starting Center and one of the few guys alive that was close to Colt’s height and weight (although Colt’s 8% bodyfat made him look like he outweighed the big lineman by about 50 pounds).

“Geez! Sorry,” Colt said, shocked to see the bearded Senior, hobbling down the hall. They had been friends back when Colt was on the team. “Sorry, Jeep,” Colt said.

Jeep waddled like he’d just gotten out of hip surgery. “It’s okay, bud,” he moaned, exhausted. “I’m headed to bed anyway. Wish I had an ice bath!”

Colt wondered if had Jeep so beat-up this late at night--maybe a late-night workout? He hoped Jeep hadn’t gotten injured. Last Colt heard, Jeep was one of the few seniors with a serious NFL shot.

Colt waited for the hobbling lineman to step into the elevator before knocking on Turner’s door. His heart pounded as he waited for a response. “Please be there, please be there, please…” He heard heavy footsteps from the other side of a door, like an elephant was stomping his way. The door flew open and a deep voice growled, “You back for more, Jeep?”

Filling up the doorway was an ENORMOUS bear of a man wearing nothing but some ill-fitting boxer-briefs that looked ready to burst. Colt had to look up at him--he was easily 6’9” tall, built like a refrigerator, burly mass spreading out in all directions. The goliath would have to stoop and turn sideways just to fit through the door! The mammoth man scratched his dark beard and jostled the obscene bulge in his underwear. Colt had to forcibly pry his eyes from the overstuffed pouch to examine the bestial man’s thick hairy muscles. Feeling small wasn’t new to Colt, but he wasn’t accustomed to being out-brawned like this!

“I--uh…” Colt’s mouth was dry. He took a step back, checking the door number: 307. He was sure that was Turner’s room, and that he lived alone. “I was looking for… Turner…”

The titan sniffed and scratched his big chest, looking down at Colt like he was a bug. His lower lip looked puffed out, and his spit a mouthful of brown suds into a Budweiser bottle. “Yeah, I’m Turner,” he said. “I don’t remember ordering no go-go boy.”

Go-go boy? Colt took a step back, unable to process everything. He felt flushed--did this beast have him blushing?

“That doesn’t mean I want you to leave!” the massive man calling himself “Turner” said, grabbing Colt’s shirt and easily tugging him inside.

“I’m looking for Turner Basquiat,” Colt said. The room beyond the door stunk like a locker room in the best way--a dense stink rising in waves off the big man’s body. “I’m a… buddy… of his…”

“Yeah, I’m Turner Basquiat,” the big guy said. He gestured toward his couch while heading toward the fridge. Colt went where the big man guided him without even thinking. “But I don’t remember being buddies with a little muscle nugget like you.” Colt stared at the couch. A huge jockstrap lay strewn across the middle cushion. Colt couldn’t believe the size of it. Strangely, he realized he would have felt more comfortable if it had been big enough for him to crawl inside.

“Turner” returned with two Budweisers. He nudged the couch with his foot and Colt sat. When the big lug sat next to him, the couch tilted so much Colt nearly fell into the big man’s lap. Before he had his beer open Colt felt a massive arm swallowing his head.

“Now,” growled the giant, leaning in close to Colt. His beard scratched Colt’s face--but Colt didn’t want to pull away. “I just finished stuffing a big lineman like he was a thanksgiving turkey, and I was ready to hit the sheets, but… I think I could go another round… or ten. You game, little guy?”

Colt blinked. Reggie had been here. This really was Turner. He barely had time to process this before Turner licked his face, then leaned in for a kiss. Turner’s massive, bearded mouth swallowed his. The feeling of the thick tongue invading Colt’s mouth made him swoon. Turner pulled back and smiled.

“You taste good, little guy. You feel good, too. Way more solid than those football players. You’re like a little rock-hard teddy bear.”

Colt gasped as the big man grabbed his arms and lifted him into the air--a shocking feeling when it wasn’t a fist larger than his body doing the lifting. Turner set Colt on his lap, where he heard the fabric of Turner’s boxer-briefs finally starting to give way to the monster inside. “Question for you, cutie,” Turner asked as he took a swig of his beer. “You think you can take all of me?” He winked and nodded down at the huge swelling poking at Colt’s jeans-clad ass. “Or you wanna be the first to climb Mount Turner and take a stab at this big ass?”

Before Colt could answer, he felt a familiar icy chill. He had no time to react; in less than a second he was falling, tumbling past blue walls to warm, solid hills beneath him. He dug his heels into the ground to stop from sliding and looked up as what looked like a blue tent (truly, Colt’s polo shirt) lifted up and away. Turner’s enormous grizzly face leered down at him, eyes wide, Colt tried to stand on his thick legs.

“Well, I guess that answers that question, although not how I meant it,” Turner said. He took a swig from his beer and spit it at Colt. The warm suds knocked him into Turner’s bulge. The boxer briefs finally gave way as a dick bigger than Colt was finally flopped free, pinning him in place.