CAFE Blues (Part 1)

[Jaypat]

Have you ever had one of those days that was both the worst day of your life and the best? When you felt like you just wanted life to end, and then something miraculous happened and you realized life hadn’t even begun? When you sat down to eat a bowl of Vanilla ice cream and suddenly you realized it was Chocolate Chip? Ok, that last one might just be me, because I really like Chocolate Chip. But anyway… One of those days? Well, I have, and it started pretty simply, with me having one of my favorite dreams.

I was back in The Clearing behind the high school during the big fight. Guys were fighting all around me—big guys. Of course, to me, since I’m only five feet tall, just about everyone’s a big guy. And these guys were football players, so even among the big guys, they were big guys.

Charles, this kind-of-dorky senior, had just sent me out into the middle of this mini-war. There was this guy, a junior, who was a friend of his—and mine I guess. He was in trouble, and Charles sent me with something that would help him. And it had to be me because I was the only one small enough to dodge around the football players and get to him without getting run over. I’m just a freshman but this junior had helped me out a couple of times so I felt I owed him.

So, here I was—in the dream—weaving in and out of the battling football players, and they’re way bigger than they were in real life. I finally get to this guy and I pull out the syringe that Charles gave me to give him. Now, when this really happened, I didn’t know what it was, but in the dream I do.

Now this guy was already pretty big. In fact, he was bigger than most of the football players. But they had all ganged up on him and beat him almost unconscious. I was supposed to give him this shot. But when I get there, he doesn’t want it. “Colin,” he says, “don’t stick me with that thing.” So in the dream I say, “Ok, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” And then I give myself the shot.

Ok, this is where the dream gets really hot. I mean I’m definitely sporting wood in the dream, and not just in the dream—if you get what I’m saying.

Suddenly I start to grow—and I’m not just talking about the hard-on. I mean my whole body just starts getting bigger and stronger. I mean, in real life it was the guy who got the shot and grew massive, but in the dream it’s me. And at this point, I kind of know it’s a dream, but it’s so real I can actually feel the changes as they happen to me. And I’d almost swear the changes were actually happening to me as I lay there in my bed sweating and breathing hard.

Anyhow, my arms start growing these really big biceps, bulging and vein covered, and they feel hard and solid on my arms. I flex and I see them stress the cloth for a second before they just explode out of my sleeves. And they keep getting bigger. And my shoulders start expanding; they get larger and rounder and broader, stretching out further from my neck, which it getting thick like a fire plug. My traps rise up and tear right through my shirt and the whole front of it just falls away, revealing my humongous chest. I look underneath and I see these fantastically cut six pack abs. And below them, just as I start getting taller, I see my pants balloon out and start tearing as enormous ripped thighs rip out of them. But that’s where it ends. That’s when I always climax, right at the part where I’m looking past my gigantic chest at my swelling, bulging legs, and it always wakes me up. And that particular morning, it was no different.

I laid there in my bed gasping while my cock was shooting cum all over my underwear. My hand shot down under the covers to help make the most of the occasion, and I think I managed to milk another shot or two out of the orgasm before it faded. And then I laid there for a minute, just lost in a pleasant sleepy haze with the tingly shadow of the orgasm still lingering damply between my legs.

And then I started thinking about the dream and wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up. How big would I have gotten? How fucking huge and powerful? Maybe as bit as that kid had gotten in real life and that was incredibly massive. And suddenly I was stiff again. My hand returned to the scene of the crime and proceeded to reenact it. I kept picturing the dream and trying to feel what it would be like to get that huge, that fucking strong. I was getting so fucking hot and so fucking hard. I was an instant away from a second explosion when BANG my bedroom door flies open and in comes my little brother, Nigel. Fuck!

I rolled over, covering my criminal activity, and yelled, “For God’s sake, Nigel, for once could you knock first?” Nigel was thirteen and a pain in the butt.

“Mom sent me to get you up,” he said, and he presented it like it was a get out of jail free card.

“I don’t care. You still have to knock.”

“Mom and I were having a serious talk about you.”

Oh great, another serious talk. Since the Doctor had broken the news that I would not grow any taller than five feet, there had been many serious talks. They had become unavoidable, like report cards or visits to the dentist.

“Go away, Nigel.”

“You’re just having a grouchy moment. Mom said you’d have lots of grouchy moments now that you’re always going to be short.” That was from talk #37.

“Nigel, leave.”

“You don’t really mean that. Mom said you’d say lots of things you didn’t mean when you had your grouchy moments, you know, because you’re so short.”

Thus was my waking life. “Oh for God’s sake, Nigel, please go away.”

“I can’t. Mom sent me to get you up. I’m not supposed to leave until you’re out of bed.”

Did Mom really hate me that much? But it didn’t matter. I had made quite a mess under the sheets, and I wasn’t getting up until Nigel was long gone. “Look, Nigel, go tell Mom that I’m up and I promise I’ll be down as soon as I can.” I had a little business I wanted to finish.

“That wouldn’t be right,” said Nigel. “Mom said I have a responsibility to you and that I always had to do the right thing, now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Mom says things are going to have to be different. That because of your condition, you’re not going to be able to take care of yourself—you know like the way you keep getting dumped in trash cans all the time?”

Oh please, God, make him shut up. Send a lighting bolt or stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth, anything, just let him stop talking.

“And since I’m taller than you—”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“—I’m going to have to start taking care of you. Mom’s getting me a weight set so I’ll be able to beat up the guys that pick on you.”

“You can’t beat up high school kids. You’re thirteen.”

“Not yet I can’t. But I will be able to. I’m already taller than you.”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“In a couple of years when I’m a freshman, you’ll be a junior. I’ll be in high school too. Then you’ll have a big strong brother to take care of you.”

“That’ll be something to look forward to.”

“Mom says we have to be sensitive to your situation but at the same time we can’t coddle you.”

“I promise you I don’t feel coddled.”

“Like from now on I’m supposed to call you my older brother instead of my big brother. I don’t want you to think I’m making fun of how short you are, especially now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me!”

“What’s going on in here? You boys having fun?” asked my mother as she breezed into my room.

Could no one knock?

“Nigel, I sent you to get your brother out of bed.”

“I know. He wouldn’t come.”

“Well, he’s probably feeling a little depressed—due to his condition. The doctor said we could expect that.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Of course you are, sweetie. It’s not good to hide your feelings.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to win this. “Ok, fine, I’m depressed. Could you please leave me alone?”

“And it’s not good to wallow in them either.” And with that she grabbed my covers and tried to rip them off me. I grabbed hold of them just in time. Another millisecond and my guilty mess would have been uncovered. I then proceeded to have a tug of war with my mother over my covers. The stakes: total humiliation. It gave me an almost inhuman strength. If she was going to take my covers she’d have to rip my hands out of their bloody sockets to do it. But it didn’t come to that. After a minute she gave up.

“Oh, Colin, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

“You could try leaving me alone.”

“Hello there,” came a sing-song voice. “What’s going on in here?” Oh great. Grandma. I’m doused in spunk and my Grandma’s in the room. Even if I get through this I’m going to be totally screwed up.

“Oh, Mom,” said my mom, “you ruined the surprise.”

Surprise? Ok, I don’t know why my mother always does this. It’s Thanksgiving week. Every year on Thanksgiving week, my Grandma comes to visit. And every year my mom acts like it’s this big surprise. Every year.

“I’m sorry dear,” said Grandma. “I see you’re having a little trouble getting Nigel out of bed.”

“Ah, I’m Colin.”

Grandma slid her glasses down to the end of her nose, and peered at me closely. “Surely not. Colin is the older one.”

Ok, can I die now?

“That’s ok, Grandma,” said Nigel. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially now that I’m taller than him.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Good Morning!” said a man’s voice.

Who the…?

“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Reverend,” said my mom.

Holy crap, it’s Reverend Peters! What the hell (if you’ll pardon the expression) is he doing here?

“Not at all,” said the Reverend. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Like hell, you’re not. Oh God, there I go again…and again.

“Of course not. Please come in.”

Thanks Mom. Was there anyone else waiting out there? Saints? Angels? God?

“That’s another surprise ruined,” said my mom. “The Reverend was kind enough to pick your grandma up at the airport, so he’ll be having breakfast with us.”

My cup of joy was overflowing. “Great. That’s just great. I don’t want to keep you. Why don’t you guys get started and I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’m having a little trouble getting sleepyhead out of bed this morning,” said my mom to the Reverend.

“What? On this glorious day?” he cried, with an enthusiasm only ministers seem to be able to pull off. “The sun’s so bright. The sky’s so blue.” Then before I knew what had happened, the Reverend reached down and yanked my covers away.

The world seemed to freeze. There was a moment when my brain just refused to accept what had happened. Then I looked down and saw my partially exposed cock lying in a milky mire of its own creation. I fought back the temptation to scream like a girl. There was dead silence while everyone in the room stared at my soaked crotch.

The first one to react was Nigel. He just burst out laughing. My mom quickly clamped a hand over his eyes, and hustled him from the room, apologizing to the Reverend and Grandma as she went.

The Reverend looked down at me sternly and said, “Young man, we’ll have to have a little talk after breakfast,” and then he left. Great. I can’t wait.

Grandma just chucked and replaced my comforter, giving me back a little of my dignity. It was far too late, but I appreciated the gesture. “Don’t worry about it, Nigel,” she said. “Try Depends.” Then she patted my head and left, closing the door behind her.

Great, Grandma thought I was a bed wetter. Actually she thought Nigel was a bed wetter. I guessed I could live with that. Really, I could live with all of it. On most days, I would probably have been pretty devastated by the morning’s events. But not today. Today was going to be a big day for me. I had been saving for over a month, ever since the fight in The Clearing, and now I finally had enough to buy some of that stuff from Charles, the same stuff that had caused his friend to grow so gigantic in size. And I couldn’t wait to try some. Today my dream would finally come true…but first I had to get through breakfast.

As I came down the stairs I could hear everyone talking happily. Of course, when I entered the room all conversation stopped and was replaced by awkward silence. You know, to tell the truth, I kind of preferred the awkward silence. It certainly beat talking about what happened upstairs and it was also better than everyone falling all over themselves to deliberately avoid the subject. Yeah, give me awkward silence every time. I was actually very happy with the awkward silence—which is, of course, why it couldn’t last.

“Can I get you a pancake, older brother?” asked Nigel.

I just skipped right though all the preliminaries and went straight to: “You’re not taller than me.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “Aren’t I taller than him, Mom?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said my mom. “It’s hard to say.”

“Back to back,” said Nigel. “Come on, Mom, measure us.”

I suddenly got very afraid. Nigel was getting taller. He didn’t have my problem so he would eventually be a normal height. But he couldn’t be taller than me, not yet. I stood up slowly, realizing for the first time just how close Nigel was getting. Crap. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Nigel came running over and stood behind me, his back to my back. I didn’t have to look to know he was standing on his toes.

“Feet flat on the floor, Nigel,” I said.

“They are,” he said, as I felt him slide down against me.

Mom came over and placed her hand between our two heads.

“Well…?” asked Nigel.

I didn’t say anything, because I suddenly realized that if Nigel was taller than me I didn’t want to know. I could feel the back of his skull right up against the back of mine and I knew that this was going to be very close.

“It looks like,” my mom said, “you two are exactly the same height.”

Crap!

“Oh, man!” whined Nigel. “Oh well, I’ll be taller than you by Christmas.” And I knew he was right. If things kept going on the way they were going, my little brother would be looking down on me by the New Year. But I had an ace up my sleeve and if I had anything to say about it, things would not keep going on the way they were going.

“Mom, after breakfast, can you give me a ride to a friend’s house?”

“Not right after breakfast, Colin. The Reverend Peters wants to have a talk with you. And I must say it’s good to have him here, since your father isn’t around.”

My father was British, and, appropriately enough, now lived in England. And I didn’t think the Reverend Peters was any kind of substitute at all. But judging from the amount of time he spent around my Mom, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “we really need to discuss this.”

And I had about as much interest in having this talk with him as I had in Chinese water torture.

“Maybe Nigel should sit in, too. He might learn something as well,” said my mom.

Oh sure. I could give a tutorial.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Grandma. “Just make sure he doesn’t drink any liquids before bed. It works for me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Mom didn’t know what to say. Even Nigel didn’t know what to say. God bless Grandma! She’d brought back the awkward silence.

I just wish there had been a way to carry it over to the little talk I had to have with the Reverend. But the pleasantly strained quiet couldn’t last forever, and before I knew it, the Reverend, Nigel and I were sitting in the family room. And the Reverend, he didn’t believe in preliminaries either.

“THE DEVIL,” he began, shouting, and turning as red as the entity about which he was talking, “is inside you, Colin!”

My eyes rolled upwards. Oh Christ—and I meant it. Nigel giggled.

“And he’s inside you as well, young man.” Nigel stopped giggling. “He is in all men. And do you know where he lives?”

I could’ve guessed, but I doubt it would have won me any points.

“Right between the legs.”

Personally, I’d always assumed the devil would look more impressive.

“Every time you feel a stirring down there, that’s him talking to you.”

The devil’s quite a blabbermouth, isn’t he?

“And if you listen to him, he will lead you to wrack and ruin, every time! Every time!”

Next time he says anything, I’ll be sure to rough him up good.

“So resist him! Resist his siren’s call. Wait until the time is right.”

The time is right? What the…? “Excuse me, Reverend, are you saying there’s a right time to give into the devil?”

“No, son, I’m talking about the time when you get ready to start a family of your own.”

“But wouldn’t that involve, you know, the devil?”

“They don’t call it original sin for nothing.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I don’t have to worry then.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, no girl is going to be interested in a skinny little shrimp like me.”

“Colin,” he said, “I can see your soul is in peril.”

What? I glanced down at my body trying to see if I could see what he was seeing, but there was no sign of an endangered soul. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the devil, hiding beneath some denim. He seemed pretty subdued at the moment.

“You are in danger of giving into despair, and despair is the devil’s inroad.”

Wait a minute, if the devil was who the Reverend said he was then the guy didn’t need an inroad; he pretty much already owned me.

“I will meditate on your problem and pray for you.”

“I’ll pray for you, too,” said Nigel.

He’ll pray for me? That condescending little prick! Ok, what I was about to do, I wasn’t going to be proud of. In fact, I expected to hate myself for a full sixty seconds.

“But the devil is in you, too, Nigel.”

“What? I’m just a kid.”

“Not so much, Nigel. You’re thirteen now. You’ve got peach fuzz on you upper lip, a cracking voice, and a habit of bleaching your underwear.”

“How’d you know abo…” Nigel started. Then he froze; the full realization that he’d just given himself away was branded across his face. Of course Mom had known. You can’t hide these things from the person who washes your sheets. That’s why she suggested he sit in on our session.

And I had known as soon as I walked into the laundry room and saw his clumsy attempts at bleaching his underwear. I’m sure most of it had holes by now. It’s not like I held it against him or anything. It’s just that his holier-than-thou attitude was really starting to piss me off. Of course, what was really going to make this fun was the fact he thought no one else knew.

“Nigel?” began the Reverend. “Are you masturbating?”

Nigel’s eyes went bug-wide and he started quivering. If you’ve ever seen a rabbit in front of a semi, then you’ve seen my brother at that moment.

“It’s ok, Nigel,” I said. “I’ll pray for you.”

Then he did exactly what most trapped rabbits do. He jumped up and ran for it. I don’t know where he thought he was going. I guess it was just a panic maneuver. And the Reverend, like the Lord’s hound on the sent of sin, jumped up and ran after him.

“Nigel, come back here. We have to talk about this.”

I heard the pounding of running feet and the slamming of doors, and the crash when an occasional knick-knack fell to the ground, as my brother raced through the house searching desperately for a place to hide, and the Reverend chased after him calling, “Nigel. Nigel stop,” obviously desperate to save him.

I did my time. I spent the full sixty seconds hating myself. Then I sat back and grinned from ear to ear. It’s the little moments in life we learn to treasure.
Have you ever had one of those days that was both the worst day of your life and the best? When you felt like you just wanted life to end, and then something miraculous happened and you realized life hadn’t even begun? When you sat down to eat a bowl of Vanilla ice cream and suddenly you realized it was Chocolate Chip? Ok, that last one might just be me, because I really like Chocolate Chip. But anyway… One of those days? Well, I have, and it started pretty simply, with me having one of my favorite dreams.

I was back in The Clearing behind the high school during the big fight. Guys were fighting all around me—big guys. Of course, to me, since I’m only five feet tall, just about everyone’s a big guy. And these guys were football players, so even among the big guys, they were big guys.

Charles, this kind-of-dorky senior, had just sent me out into the middle of this mini-war. There was this guy, a junior, who was a friend of his—and mine I guess. He was in trouble, and Charles sent me with something that would help him. And it had to be me because I was the only one small enough to dodge around the football players and get to him without getting run over. I’m just a freshman but this junior had helped me out a couple of times so I felt I owed him.

So, here I was—in the dream—weaving in and out of the battling football players, and they’re way bigger than they were in real life. I finally get to this guy and I pull out the syringe that Charles gave me to give him. Now, when this really happened, I didn’t know what it was, but in the dream I do.

Now this guy was already pretty big. In fact, he was bigger than most of the football players. But they had all ganged up on him and beat him almost unconscious. I was supposed to give him this shot. But when I get there, he doesn’t want it. “Colin,” he says, “don’t stick me with that thing.” So in the dream I say, “Ok, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” And then I give myself the shot.

Ok, this is where the dream gets really hot. I mean I’m definitely sporting wood in the dream, and not just in the dream—if you get what I’m saying.

Suddenly I start to grow—and I’m not just talking about the hard-on. I mean my whole body just starts getting bigger and stronger. I mean, in real life it was the guy who got the shot and grew massive, but in the dream it’s me. And at this point, I kind of know it’s a dream, but it’s so real I can actually feel the changes as they happen to me. And I’d almost swear the changes were actually happening to me as I lay there in my bed sweating and breathing hard.

Anyhow, my arms start growing these really big biceps, bulging and vein covered, and they feel hard and solid on my arms. I flex and I see them stress the cloth for a second before they just explode out of my sleeves. And they keep getting bigger. And my shoulders start expanding; they get larger and rounder and broader, stretching out further from my neck, which it getting thick like a fire plug. My traps rise up and tear right through my shirt and the whole front of it just falls away, revealing my humongous chest. I look underneath and I see these fantastically cut six pack abs. And below them, just as I start getting taller, I see my pants balloon out and start tearing as enormous ripped thighs rip out of them. But that’s where it ends. That’s when I always climax, right at the part where I’m looking past my gigantic chest at my swelling, bulging legs, and it always wakes me up. And that particular morning, it was no different.

I laid there in my bed gasping while my cock was shooting cum all over my underwear. My hand shot down under the covers to help make the most of the occasion, and I think I managed to milk another shot or two out of the orgasm before it faded. And then I laid there for a minute, just lost in a pleasant sleepy haze with the tingly shadow of the orgasm still lingering damply between my legs.

And then I started thinking about the dream and wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up. How big would I have gotten? How fucking huge and powerful? Maybe as bit as that kid had gotten in real life and that was incredibly massive. And suddenly I was stiff again. My hand returned to the scene of the crime and proceeded to reenact it. I kept picturing the dream and trying to feel what it would be like to get that huge, that fucking strong. I was getting so fucking hot and so fucking hard. I was an instant away from a second explosion when BANG my bedroom door flies open and in comes my little brother, Nigel. Fuck!

I rolled over, covering my criminal activity, and yelled, “For God’s sake, Nigel, for once could you knock first?” Nigel was thirteen and a pain in the butt.

“Mom sent me to get you up,” he said, and he presented it like it was a get out of jail free card.

“I don’t care. You still have to knock.”

“Mom and I were having a serious talk about you.”

Oh great, another serious talk. Since the Doctor had broken the news that I would not grow any taller than five feet, there had been many serious talks. They had become unavoidable, like report cards or visits to the dentist.

“Go away, Nigel.”

“You’re just having a grouchy moment. Mom said you’d have lots of grouchy moments now that you’re always going to be short.” That was from talk #37.

“Nigel, leave.”

“You don’t really mean that. Mom said you’d say lots of things you didn’t mean when you had your grouchy moments, you know, because you’re so short.”

Thus was my waking life. “Oh for God’s sake, Nigel, please go away.”

“I can’t. Mom sent me to get you up. I’m not supposed to leave until you’re out of bed.”

Did Mom really hate me that much? But it didn’t matter. I had made quite a mess under the sheets, and I wasn’t getting up until Nigel was long gone. “Look, Nigel, go tell Mom that I’m up and I promise I’ll be down as soon as I can.” I had a little business I wanted to finish.

“That wouldn’t be right,” said Nigel. “Mom said I have a responsibility to you and that I always had to do the right thing, now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Mom says things are going to have to be different. That because of your condition, you’re not going to be able to take care of yourself—you know like the way you keep getting dumped in trash cans all the time?”

Oh please, God, make him shut up. Send a lighting bolt or stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth, anything, just let him stop talking.

“And since I’m taller than you—”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“—I’m going to have to start taking care of you. Mom’s getting me a weight set so I’ll be able to beat up the guys that pick on you.”

“You can’t beat up high school kids. You’re thirteen.”

“Not yet I can’t. But I will be able to. I’m already taller than you.”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“In a couple of years when I’m a freshman, you’ll be a junior. I’ll be in high school too. Then you’ll have a big strong brother to take care of you.”

“That’ll be something to look forward to.”

“Mom says we have to be sensitive to your situation but at the same time we can’t coddle you.”

“I promise you I don’t feel coddled.”

“Like from now on I’m supposed to call you my older brother instead of my big brother. I don’t want you to think I’m making fun of how short you are, especially now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me!”

“What’s going on in here? You boys having fun?” asked my mother as she breezed into my room.

Could no one knock?

“Nigel, I sent you to get your brother out of bed.”

“I know. He wouldn’t come.”

“Well, he’s probably feeling a little depressed—due to his condition. The doctor said we could expect that.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Of course you are, sweetie. It’s not good to hide your feelings.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to win this. “Ok, fine, I’m depressed. Could you please leave me alone?”

“And it’s not good to wallow in them either.” And with that she grabbed my covers and tried to rip them off me. I grabbed hold of them just in time. Another millisecond and my guilty mess would have been uncovered. I then proceeded to have a tug of war with my mother over my covers. The stakes: total humiliation. It gave me an almost inhuman strength. If she was going to take my covers she’d have to rip my hands out of their bloody sockets to do it. But it didn’t come to that. After a minute she gave up.

“Oh, Colin, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

“You could try leaving me alone.”

“Hello there,” came a sing-song voice. “What’s going on in here?” Oh great. Grandma. I’m doused in spunk and my Grandma’s in the room. Even if I get through this I’m going to be totally screwed up.

“Oh, Mom,” said my mom, “you ruined the surprise.”

Surprise? Ok, I don’t know why my mother always does this. It’s Thanksgiving week. Every year on Thanksgiving week, my Grandma comes to visit. And every year my mom acts like it’s this big surprise. Every year.

“I’m sorry dear,” said Grandma. “I see you’re having a little trouble getting Nigel out of bed.”

“Ah, I’m Colin.”

Grandma slid her glasses down to the end of her nose, and peered at me closely. “Surely not. Colin is the older one.”

Ok, can I die now?

“That’s ok, Grandma,” said Nigel. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially now that I’m taller than him.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Good Morning!” said a man’s voice.

Who the…?

“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Reverend,” said my mom.

Holy crap, it’s Reverend Peters! What the hell (if you’ll pardon the expression) is he doing here?

“Not at all,” said the Reverend. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Like hell, you’re not. Oh God, there I go again…and again.

“Of course not. Please come in.”

Thanks Mom. Was there anyone else waiting out there? Saints? Angels? God?

“That’s another surprise ruined,” said my mom. “The Reverend was kind enough to pick your grandma up at the airport, so he’ll be having breakfast with us.”

My cup of joy was overflowing. “Great. That’s just great. I don’t want to keep you. Why don’t you guys get started and I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’m having a little trouble getting sleepyhead out of bed this morning,” said my mom to the Reverend.

“What? On this glorious day?” he cried, with an enthusiasm only ministers seem to be able to pull off. “The sun’s so bright. The sky’s so blue.” Then before I knew what had happened, the Reverend reached down and yanked my covers away.

The world seemed to freeze. There was a moment when my brain just refused to accept what had happened. Then I looked down and saw my partially exposed cock lying in a milky mire of its own creation. I fought back the temptation to scream like a girl. There was dead silence while everyone in the room stared at my soaked crotch.

The first one to react was Nigel. He just burst out laughing. My mom quickly clamped a hand over his eyes, and hustled him from the room, apologizing to the Reverend and Grandma as she went.

The Reverend looked down at me sternly and said, “Young man, we’ll have to have a little talk after breakfast,” and then he left. Great. I can’t wait.

Grandma just chucked and replaced my comforter, giving me back a little of my dignity. It was far too late, but I appreciated the gesture. “Don’t worry about it, Nigel,” she said. “Try Depends.” Then she patted my head and left, closing the door behind her.

Great, Grandma thought I was a bed wetter. Actually she thought Nigel was a bed wetter. I guessed I could live with that. Really, I could live with all of it. On most days, I would probably have been pretty devastated by the morning’s events. But not today. Today was going to be a big day for me. I had been saving for over a month, ever since the fight in The Clearing, and now I finally had enough to buy some of that stuff from Charles, the same stuff that had caused his friend to grow so gigantic in size. And I couldn’t wait to try some. Today my dream would finally come true…but first I had to get through breakfast.

As I came down the stairs I could hear everyone talking happily. Of course, when I entered the room all conversation stopped and was replaced by awkward silence. You know, to tell the truth, I kind of preferred the awkward silence. It certainly beat talking about what happened upstairs and it was also better than everyone falling all over themselves to deliberately avoid the subject. Yeah, give me awkward silence every time. I was actually very happy with the awkward silence—which is, of course, why it couldn’t last.

“Can I get you a pancake, older brother?” asked Nigel.

I just skipped right though all the preliminaries and went straight to: “You’re not taller than me.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “Aren’t I taller than him, Mom?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said my mom. “It’s hard to say.”

“Back to back,” said Nigel. “Come on, Mom, measure us.”

I suddenly got very afraid. Nigel was getting taller. He didn’t have my problem so he would eventually be a normal height. But he couldn’t be taller than me, not yet. I stood up slowly, realizing for the first time just how close Nigel was getting. Crap. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Nigel came running over and stood behind me, his back to my back. I didn’t have to look to know he was standing on his toes.

“Feet flat on the floor, Nigel,” I said.

“They are,” he said, as I felt him slide down against me.

Mom came over and placed her hand between our two heads.

“Well…?” asked Nigel.

I didn’t say anything, because I suddenly realized that if Nigel was taller than me I didn’t want to know. I could feel the back of his skull right up against the back of mine and I knew that this was going to be very close.

“It looks like,” my mom said, “you two are exactly the same height.”

Crap!

“Oh, man!” whined Nigel. “Oh well, I’ll be taller than you by Christmas.” And I knew he was right. If things kept going on the way they were going, my little brother would be looking down on me by the New Year. But I had an ace up my sleeve and if I had anything to say about it, things would not keep going on the way they were going.

“Mom, after breakfast, can you give me a ride to a friend’s house?”

“Not right after breakfast, Colin. The Reverend Peters wants to have a talk with you. And I must say it’s good to have him here, since your father isn’t around.”

My father was British, and, appropriately enough, now lived in England. And I didn’t think the Reverend Peters was any kind of substitute at all. But judging from the amount of time he spent around my Mom, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “we really need to discuss this.”

And I had about as much interest in having this talk with him as I had in Chinese water torture.

“Maybe Nigel should sit in, too. He might learn something as well,” said my mom.

Oh sure. I could give a tutorial.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Grandma. “Just make sure he doesn’t drink any liquids before bed. It works for me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Mom didn’t know what to say. Even Nigel didn’t know what to say. God bless Grandma! She’d brought back the awkward silence.

I just wish there had been a way to carry it over to the little talk I had to have with the Reverend. But the pleasantly strained quiet couldn’t last forever, and before I knew it, the Reverend, Nigel and I were sitting in the family room. And the Reverend, he didn’t believe in preliminaries either.

“THE DEVIL,” he began, shouting, and turning as red as the entity about which he was talking, “is inside you, Colin!”

My eyes rolled upwards. Oh Christ—and I meant it. Nigel giggled.

“And he’s inside you as well, young man.” Nigel stopped giggling. “He is in all men. And do you know where he lives?”

I could’ve guessed, but I doubt it would have won me any points.

“Right between the legs.”

Personally, I’d always assumed the devil would look more impressive.

“Every time you feel a stirring down there, that’s him talking to you.”

The devil’s quite a blabbermouth, isn’t he?

“And if you listen to him, he will lead you to wrack and ruin, every time! Every time!”

Next time he says anything, I’ll be sure to rough him up good.

“So resist him! Resist his siren’s call. Wait until the time is right.”

The time is right? What the…? “Excuse me, Reverend, are you saying there’s a right time to give into the devil?”

“No, son, I’m talking about the time when you get ready to start a family of your own.”

“But wouldn’t that involve, you know, the devil?”

“They don’t call it original sin for nothing.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I don’t have to worry then.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, no girl is going to be interested in a skinny little shrimp like me.”

“Colin,” he said, “I can see your soul is in peril.”

What? I glanced down at my body trying to see if I could see what he was seeing, but there was no sign of an endangered soul. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the devil, hiding beneath some denim. He seemed pretty subdued at the moment.

“You are in danger of giving into despair, and despair is the devil’s inroad.”

Wait a minute, if the devil was who the Reverend said he was then the guy didn’t need an inroad; he pretty much already owned me.

“I will meditate on your problem and pray for you.”

“I’ll pray for you, too,” said Nigel.

He’ll pray for me? That condescending little prick! Ok, what I was about to do, I wasn’t going to be proud of. In fact, I expected to hate myself for a full sixty seconds.

“But the devil is in you, too, Nigel.”

“What? I’m just a kid.”

“Not so much, Nigel. You’re thirteen now. You’ve got peach fuzz on you upper lip, a cracking voice, and a habit of bleaching your underwear.”

“How’d you know abo…” Nigel started. Then he froze; the full realization that he’d just given himself away was branded across his face. Of course Mom had known. You can’t hide these things from the person who washes your sheets. That’s why she suggested he sit in on our session.

And I had known as soon as I walked into the laundry room and saw his clumsy attempts at bleaching his underwear. I’m sure most of it had holes by now. It’s not like I held it against him or anything. It’s just that his holier-than-thou attitude was really starting to piss me off. Of course, what was really going to make this fun was the fact he thought no one else knew.

“Nigel?” began the Reverend. “Are you masturbating?”

Nigel’s eyes went bug-wide and he started quivering. If you’ve ever seen a rabbit in front of a semi, then you’ve seen my brother at that moment.

“It’s ok, Nigel,” I said. “I’ll pray for you.”

Then he did exactly what most trapped rabbits do. He jumped up and ran for it. I don’t know where he thought he was going. I guess it was just a panic maneuver. And the Reverend, like the Lord’s hound on the sent of sin, jumped up and ran after him.

“Nigel, come back here. We have to talk about this.”

I heard the pounding of running feet and the slamming of doors, and the crash when an occasional knick-knack fell to the ground, as my brother raced through the house searching desperately for a place to hide, and the Reverend chased after him calling, “Nigel. Nigel stop,” obviously desperate to save him.

I did my time. I spent the full sixty seconds hating myself. Then I sat back and grinned from ear to ear. It’s the little moments in life we learn to treasure.
Have you ever had one of those days that was both the worst day of your life and the best? When you felt like you just wanted life to end, and then something miraculous happened and you realized life hadn’t even begun? When you sat down to eat a bowl of Vanilla ice cream and suddenly you realized it was Chocolate Chip? Ok, that last one might just be me, because I really like Chocolate Chip. But anyway… One of those days? Well, I have, and it started pretty simply, with me having one of my favorite dreams.

I was back in The Clearing behind the high school during the big fight. Guys were fighting all around me—big guys. Of course, to me, since I’m only five feet tall, just about everyone’s a big guy. And these guys were football players, so even among the big guys, they were big guys.

Charles, this kind-of-dorky senior, had just sent me out into the middle of this mini-war. There was this guy, a junior, who was a friend of his—and mine I guess. He was in trouble, and Charles sent me with something that would help him. And it had to be me because I was the only one small enough to dodge around the football players and get to him without getting run over. I’m just a freshman but this junior had helped me out a couple of times so I felt I owed him.

So, here I was—in the dream—weaving in and out of the battling football players, and they’re way bigger than they were in real life. I finally get to this guy and I pull out the syringe that Charles gave me to give him. Now, when this really happened, I didn’t know what it was, but in the dream I do.

Now this guy was already pretty big. In fact, he was bigger than most of the football players. But they had all ganged up on him and beat him almost unconscious. I was supposed to give him this shot. But when I get there, he doesn’t want it. “Colin,” he says, “don’t stick me with that thing.” So in the dream I say, “Ok, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” And then I give myself the shot.

Ok, this is where the dream gets really hot. I mean I’m definitely sporting wood in the dream, and not just in the dream—if you get what I’m saying.

Suddenly I start to grow—and I’m not just talking about the hard-on. I mean my whole body just starts getting bigger and stronger. I mean, in real life it was the guy who got the shot and grew massive, but in the dream it’s me. And at this point, I kind of know it’s a dream, but it’s so real I can actually feel the changes as they happen to me. And I’d almost swear the changes were actually happening to me as I lay there in my bed sweating and breathing hard.

Anyhow, my arms start growing these really big biceps, bulging and vein covered, and they feel hard and solid on my arms. I flex and I see them stress the cloth for a second before they just explode out of my sleeves. And they keep getting bigger. And my shoulders start expanding; they get larger and rounder and broader, stretching out further from my neck, which it getting thick like a fire plug. My traps rise up and tear right through my shirt and the whole front of it just falls away, revealing my humongous chest. I look underneath and I see these fantastically cut six pack abs. And below them, just as I start getting taller, I see my pants balloon out and start tearing as enormous ripped thighs rip out of them. But that’s where it ends. That’s when I always climax, right at the part where I’m looking past my gigantic chest at my swelling, bulging legs, and it always wakes me up. And that particular morning, it was no different.

I laid there in my bed gasping while my cock was shooting cum all over my underwear. My hand shot down under the covers to help make the most of the occasion, and I think I managed to milk another shot or two out of the orgasm before it faded. And then I laid there for a minute, just lost in a pleasant sleepy haze with the tingly shadow of the orgasm still lingering damply between my legs.

And then I started thinking about the dream and wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up. How big would I have gotten? How fucking huge and powerful? Maybe as bit as that kid had gotten in real life and that was incredibly massive. And suddenly I was stiff again. My hand returned to the scene of the crime and proceeded to reenact it. I kept picturing the dream and trying to feel what it would be like to get that huge, that fucking strong. I was getting so fucking hot and so fucking hard. I was an instant away from a second explosion when BANG my bedroom door flies open and in comes my little brother, Nigel. Fuck!

I rolled over, covering my criminal activity, and yelled, “For God’s sake, Nigel, for once could you knock first?” Nigel was thirteen and a pain in the butt.

“Mom sent me to get you up,” he said, and he presented it like it was a get out of jail free card.

“I don’t care. You still have to knock.”

“Mom and I were having a serious talk about you.”

Oh great, another serious talk. Since the Doctor had broken the news that I would not grow any taller than five feet, there had been many serious talks. They had become unavoidable, like report cards or visits to the dentist.

“Go away, Nigel.”

“You’re just having a grouchy moment. Mom said you’d have lots of grouchy moments now that you’re always going to be short.” That was from talk #37.

“Nigel, leave.”

“You don’t really mean that. Mom said you’d say lots of things you didn’t mean when you had your grouchy moments, you know, because you’re so short.”

Thus was my waking life. “Oh for God’s sake, Nigel, please go away.”

“I can’t. Mom sent me to get you up. I’m not supposed to leave until you’re out of bed.”

Did Mom really hate me that much? But it didn’t matter. I had made quite a mess under the sheets, and I wasn’t getting up until Nigel was long gone. “Look, Nigel, go tell Mom that I’m up and I promise I’ll be down as soon as I can.” I had a little business I wanted to finish.

“That wouldn’t be right,” said Nigel. “Mom said I have a responsibility to you and that I always had to do the right thing, now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Mom says things are going to have to be different. That because of your condition, you’re not going to be able to take care of yourself—you know like the way you keep getting dumped in trash cans all the time?”

Oh please, God, make him shut up. Send a lighting bolt or stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth, anything, just let him stop talking.

“And since I’m taller than you—”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“—I’m going to have to start taking care of you. Mom’s getting me a weight set so I’ll be able to beat up the guys that pick on you.”

“You can’t beat up high school kids. You’re thirteen.”

“Not yet I can’t. But I will be able to. I’m already taller than you.”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“In a couple of years when I’m a freshman, you’ll be a junior. I’ll be in high school too. Then you’ll have a big strong brother to take care of you.”

“That’ll be something to look forward to.”

“Mom says we have to be sensitive to your situation but at the same time we can’t coddle you.”

“I promise you I don’t feel coddled.”

“Like from now on I’m supposed to call you my older brother instead of my big brother. I don’t want you to think I’m making fun of how short you are, especially now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me!”

“What’s going on in here? You boys having fun?” asked my mother as she breezed into my room.

Could no one knock?

“Nigel, I sent you to get your brother out of bed.”

“I know. He wouldn’t come.”

“Well, he’s probably feeling a little depressed—due to his condition. The doctor said we could expect that.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Of course you are, sweetie. It’s not good to hide your feelings.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to win this. “Ok, fine, I’m depressed. Could you please leave me alone?”

“And it’s not good to wallow in them either.” And with that she grabbed my covers and tried to rip them off me. I grabbed hold of them just in time. Another millisecond and my guilty mess would have been uncovered. I then proceeded to have a tug of war with my mother over my covers. The stakes: total humiliation. It gave me an almost inhuman strength. If she was going to take my covers she’d have to rip my hands out of their bloody sockets to do it. But it didn’t come to that. After a minute she gave up.

“Oh, Colin, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

“You could try leaving me alone.”

“Hello there,” came a sing-song voice. “What’s going on in here?” Oh great. Grandma. I’m doused in spunk and my Grandma’s in the room. Even if I get through this I’m going to be totally screwed up.

“Oh, Mom,” said my mom, “you ruined the surprise.”

Surprise? Ok, I don’t know why my mother always does this. It’s Thanksgiving week. Every year on Thanksgiving week, my Grandma comes to visit. And every year my mom acts like it’s this big surprise. Every year.

“I’m sorry dear,” said Grandma. “I see you’re having a little trouble getting Nigel out of bed.”

“Ah, I’m Colin.”

Grandma slid her glasses down to the end of her nose, and peered at me closely. “Surely not. Colin is the older one.”

Ok, can I die now?

“That’s ok, Grandma,” said Nigel. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially now that I’m taller than him.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Good Morning!” said a man’s voice.

Who the…?

“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Reverend,” said my mom.

Holy crap, it’s Reverend Peters! What the hell (if you’ll pardon the expression) is he doing here?

“Not at all,” said the Reverend. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Like hell, you’re not. Oh God, there I go again…and again.

“Of course not. Please come in.”

Thanks Mom. Was there anyone else waiting out there? Saints? Angels? God?

“That’s another surprise ruined,” said my mom. “The Reverend was kind enough to pick your grandma up at the airport, so he’ll be having breakfast with us.”

My cup of joy was overflowing. “Great. That’s just great. I don’t want to keep you. Why don’t you guys get started and I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’m having a little trouble getting sleepyhead out of bed this morning,” said my mom to the Reverend.

“What? On this glorious day?” he cried, with an enthusiasm only ministers seem to be able to pull off. “The sun’s so bright. The sky’s so blue.” Then before I knew what had happened, the Reverend reached down and yanked my covers away.

The world seemed to freeze. There was a moment when my brain just refused to accept what had happened. Then I looked down and saw my partially exposed cock lying in a milky mire of its own creation. I fought back the temptation to scream like a girl. There was dead silence while everyone in the room stared at my soaked crotch.

The first one to react was Nigel. He just burst out laughing. My mom quickly clamped a hand over his eyes, and hustled him from the room, apologizing to the Reverend and Grandma as she went.

The Reverend looked down at me sternly and said, “Young man, we’ll have to have a little talk after breakfast,” and then he left. Great. I can’t wait.

Grandma just chucked and replaced my comforter, giving me back a little of my dignity. It was far too late, but I appreciated the gesture. “Don’t worry about it, Nigel,” she said. “Try Depends.” Then she patted my head and left, closing the door behind her.

Great, Grandma thought I was a bed wetter. Actually she thought Nigel was a bed wetter. I guessed I could live with that. Really, I could live with all of it. On most days, I would probably have been pretty devastated by the morning’s events. But not today. Today was going to be a big day for me. I had been saving for over a month, ever since the fight in The Clearing, and now I finally had enough to buy some of that stuff from Charles, the same stuff that had caused his friend to grow so gigantic in size. And I couldn’t wait to try some. Today my dream would finally come true…but first I had to get through breakfast.

As I came down the stairs I could hear everyone talking happily. Of course, when I entered the room all conversation stopped and was replaced by awkward silence. You know, to tell the truth, I kind of preferred the awkward silence. It certainly beat talking about what happened upstairs and it was also better than everyone falling all over themselves to deliberately avoid the subject. Yeah, give me awkward silence every time. I was actually very happy with the awkward silence—which is, of course, why it couldn’t last.

“Can I get you a pancake, older brother?” asked Nigel.

I just skipped right though all the preliminaries and went straight to: “You’re not taller than me.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “Aren’t I taller than him, Mom?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said my mom. “It’s hard to say.”

“Back to back,” said Nigel. “Come on, Mom, measure us.”

I suddenly got very afraid. Nigel was getting taller. He didn’t have my problem so he would eventually be a normal height. But he couldn’t be taller than me, not yet. I stood up slowly, realizing for the first time just how close Nigel was getting. Crap. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Nigel came running over and stood behind me, his back to my back. I didn’t have to look to know he was standing on his toes.

“Feet flat on the floor, Nigel,” I said.

“They are,” he said, as I felt him slide down against me.

Mom came over and placed her hand between our two heads.

“Well…?” asked Nigel.

I didn’t say anything, because I suddenly realized that if Nigel was taller than me I didn’t want to know. I could feel the back of his skull right up against the back of mine and I knew that this was going to be very close.

“It looks like,” my mom said, “you two are exactly the same height.”

Crap!

“Oh, man!” whined Nigel. “Oh well, I’ll be taller than you by Christmas.” And I knew he was right. If things kept going on the way they were going, my little brother would be looking down on me by the New Year. But I had an ace up my sleeve and if I had anything to say about it, things would not keep going on the way they were going.

“Mom, after breakfast, can you give me a ride to a friend’s house?”

“Not right after breakfast, Colin. The Reverend Peters wants to have a talk with you. And I must say it’s good to have him here, since your father isn’t around.”

My father was British, and, appropriately enough, now lived in England. And I didn’t think the Reverend Peters was any kind of substitute at all. But judging from the amount of time he spent around my Mom, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “we really need to discuss this.”

And I had about as much interest in having this talk with him as I had in Chinese water torture.

“Maybe Nigel should sit in, too. He might learn something as well,” said my mom.

Oh sure. I could give a tutorial.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Grandma. “Just make sure he doesn’t drink any liquids before bed. It works for me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Mom didn’t know what to say. Even Nigel didn’t know what to say. God bless Grandma! She’d brought back the awkward silence.

I just wish there had been a way to carry it over to the little talk I had to have with the Reverend. But the pleasantly strained quiet couldn’t last forever, and before I knew it, the Reverend, Nigel and I were sitting in the family room. And the Reverend, he didn’t believe in preliminaries either.

“THE DEVIL,” he began, shouting, and turning as red as the entity about which he was talking, “is inside you, Colin!”

My eyes rolled upwards. Oh Christ—and I meant it. Nigel giggled.

“And he’s inside you as well, young man.” Nigel stopped giggling. “He is in all men. And do you know where he lives?”

I could’ve guessed, but I doubt it would have won me any points.

“Right between the legs.”

Personally, I’d always assumed the devil would look more impressive.

“Every time you feel a stirring down there, that’s him talking to you.”

The devil’s quite a blabbermouth, isn’t he?

“And if you listen to him, he will lead you to wrack and ruin, every time! Every time!”

Next time he says anything, I’ll be sure to rough him up good.

“So resist him! Resist his siren’s call. Wait until the time is right.”

The time is right? What the…? “Excuse me, Reverend, are you saying there’s a right time to give into the devil?”

“No, son, I’m talking about the time when you get ready to start a family of your own.”

“But wouldn’t that involve, you know, the devil?”

“They don’t call it original sin for nothing.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I don’t have to worry then.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, no girl is going to be interested in a skinny little shrimp like me.”

“Colin,” he said, “I can see your soul is in peril.”

What? I glanced down at my body trying to see if I could see what he was seeing, but there was no sign of an endangered soul. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the devil, hiding beneath some denim. He seemed pretty subdued at the moment.

“You are in danger of giving into despair, and despair is the devil’s inroad.”

Wait a minute, if the devil was who the Reverend said he was then the guy didn’t need an inroad; he pretty much already owned me.

“I will meditate on your problem and pray for you.”

“I’ll pray for you, too,” said Nigel.

He’ll pray for me? That condescending little prick! Ok, what I was about to do, I wasn’t going to be proud of. In fact, I expected to hate myself for a full sixty seconds.

“But the devil is in you, too, Nigel.”

“What? I’m just a kid.”

“Not so much, Nigel. You’re thirteen now. You’ve got peach fuzz on you upper lip, a cracking voice, and a habit of bleaching your underwear.”

“How’d you know abo…” Nigel started. Then he froze; the full realization that he’d just given himself away was branded across his face. Of course Mom had known. You can’t hide these things from the person who washes your sheets. That’s why she suggested he sit in on our session.

And I had known as soon as I walked into the laundry room and saw his clumsy attempts at bleaching his underwear. I’m sure most of it had holes by now. It’s not like I held it against him or anything. It’s just that his holier-than-thou attitude was really starting to piss me off. Of course, what was really going to make this fun was the fact he thought no one else knew.

“Nigel?” began the Reverend. “Are you masturbating?”

Nigel’s eyes went bug-wide and he started quivering. If you’ve ever seen a rabbit in front of a semi, then you’ve seen my brother at that moment.

“It’s ok, Nigel,” I said. “I’ll pray for you.”

Then he did exactly what most trapped rabbits do. He jumped up and ran for it. I don’t know where he thought he was going. I guess it was just a panic maneuver. And the Reverend, like the Lord’s hound on the sent of sin, jumped up and ran after him.

“Nigel, come back here. We have to talk about this.”

I heard the pounding of running feet and the slamming of doors, and the crash when an occasional knick-knack fell to the ground, as my brother raced through the house searching desperately for a place to hide, and the Reverend chased after him calling, “Nigel. Nigel stop,” obviously desperate to save him.

I did my time. I spent the full sixty seconds hating myself. Then I sat back and grinned from ear to ear. It’s the little moments in life we learn to treasure.
Have you ever had one of those days that was both the worst day of your life and the best? When you felt like you just wanted life to end, and then something miraculous happened and you realized life hadn’t even begun? When you sat down to eat a bowl of Vanilla ice cream and suddenly you realized it was Chocolate Chip? Ok, that last one might just be me, because I really like Chocolate Chip. But anyway… One of those days? Well, I have, and it started pretty simply, with me having one of my favorite dreams.

I was back in The Clearing behind the high school during the big fight. Guys were fighting all around me—big guys. Of course, to me, since I’m only five feet tall, just about everyone’s a big guy. And these guys were football players, so even among the big guys, they were big guys.

Charles, this kind-of-dorky senior, had just sent me out into the middle of this mini-war. There was this guy, a junior, who was a friend of his—and mine I guess. He was in trouble, and Charles sent me with something that would help him. And it had to be me because I was the only one small enough to dodge around the football players and get to him without getting run over. I’m just a freshman but this junior had helped me out a couple of times so I felt I owed him.

So, here I was—in the dream—weaving in and out of the battling football players, and they’re way bigger than they were in real life. I finally get to this guy and I pull out the syringe that Charles gave me to give him. Now, when this really happened, I didn’t know what it was, but in the dream I do.

Now this guy was already pretty big. In fact, he was bigger than most of the football players. But they had all ganged up on him and beat him almost unconscious. I was supposed to give him this shot. But when I get there, he doesn’t want it. “Colin,” he says, “don’t stick me with that thing.” So in the dream I say, “Ok, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” And then I give myself the shot.

Ok, this is where the dream gets really hot. I mean I’m definitely sporting wood in the dream, and not just in the dream—if you get what I’m saying.

Suddenly I start to grow—and I’m not just talking about the hard-on. I mean my whole body just starts getting bigger and stronger. I mean, in real life it was the guy who got the shot and grew massive, but in the dream it’s me. And at this point, I kind of know it’s a dream, but it’s so real I can actually feel the changes as they happen to me. And I’d almost swear the changes were actually happening to me as I lay there in my bed sweating and breathing hard.

Anyhow, my arms start growing these really big biceps, bulging and vein covered, and they feel hard and solid on my arms. I flex and I see them stress the cloth for a second before they just explode out of my sleeves. And they keep getting bigger. And my shoulders start expanding; they get larger and rounder and broader, stretching out further from my neck, which it getting thick like a fire plug. My traps rise up and tear right through my shirt and the whole front of it just falls away, revealing my humongous chest. I look underneath and I see these fantastically cut six pack abs. And below them, just as I start getting taller, I see my pants balloon out and start tearing as enormous ripped thighs rip out of them. But that’s where it ends. That’s when I always climax, right at the part where I’m looking past my gigantic chest at my swelling, bulging legs, and it always wakes me up. And that particular morning, it was no different.

I laid there in my bed gasping while my cock was shooting cum all over my underwear. My hand shot down under the covers to help make the most of the occasion, and I think I managed to milk another shot or two out of the orgasm before it faded. And then I laid there for a minute, just lost in a pleasant sleepy haze with the tingly shadow of the orgasm still lingering damply between my legs.

And then I started thinking about the dream and wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up. How big would I have gotten? How fucking huge and powerful? Maybe as bit as that kid had gotten in real life and that was incredibly massive. And suddenly I was stiff again. My hand returned to the scene of the crime and proceeded to reenact it. I kept picturing the dream and trying to feel what it would be like to get that huge, that fucking strong. I was getting so fucking hot and so fucking hard. I was an instant away from a second explosion when BANG my bedroom door flies open and in comes my little brother, Nigel. Fuck!

I rolled over, covering my criminal activity, and yelled, “For God’s sake, Nigel, for once could you knock first?” Nigel was thirteen and a pain in the butt.

“Mom sent me to get you up,” he said, and he presented it like it was a get out of jail free card.

“I don’t care. You still have to knock.”

“Mom and I were having a serious talk about you.”

Oh great, another serious talk. Since the Doctor had broken the news that I would not grow any taller than five feet, there had been many serious talks. They had become unavoidable, like report cards or visits to the dentist.

“Go away, Nigel.”

“You’re just having a grouchy moment. Mom said you’d have lots of grouchy moments now that you’re always going to be short.” That was from talk #37.

“Nigel, leave.”

“You don’t really mean that. Mom said you’d say lots of things you didn’t mean when you had your grouchy moments, you know, because you’re so short.”

Thus was my waking life. “Oh for God’s sake, Nigel, please go away.”

“I can’t. Mom sent me to get you up. I’m not supposed to leave until you’re out of bed.”

Did Mom really hate me that much? But it didn’t matter. I had made quite a mess under the sheets, and I wasn’t getting up until Nigel was long gone. “Look, Nigel, go tell Mom that I’m up and I promise I’ll be down as soon as I can.” I had a little business I wanted to finish.

“That wouldn’t be right,” said Nigel. “Mom said I have a responsibility to you and that I always had to do the right thing, now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Mom says things are going to have to be different. That because of your condition, you’re not going to be able to take care of yourself—you know like the way you keep getting dumped in trash cans all the time?”

Oh please, God, make him shut up. Send a lighting bolt or stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth, anything, just let him stop talking.

“And since I’m taller than you—”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“—I’m going to have to start taking care of you. Mom’s getting me a weight set so I’ll be able to beat up the guys that pick on you.”

“You can’t beat up high school kids. You’re thirteen.”

“Not yet I can’t. But I will be able to. I’m already taller than you.”

“You’re not taller than me.”

“In a couple of years when I’m a freshman, you’ll be a junior. I’ll be in high school too. Then you’ll have a big strong brother to take care of you.”

“That’ll be something to look forward to.”

“Mom says we have to be sensitive to your situation but at the same time we can’t coddle you.”

“I promise you I don’t feel coddled.”

“Like from now on I’m supposed to call you my older brother instead of my big brother. I don’t want you to think I’m making fun of how short you are, especially now that I’m taller than you.”

“You are not taller than me!”

“What’s going on in here? You boys having fun?” asked my mother as she breezed into my room.

Could no one knock?

“Nigel, I sent you to get your brother out of bed.”

“I know. He wouldn’t come.”

“Well, he’s probably feeling a little depressed—due to his condition. The doctor said we could expect that.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Of course you are, sweetie. It’s not good to hide your feelings.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to win this. “Ok, fine, I’m depressed. Could you please leave me alone?”

“And it’s not good to wallow in them either.” And with that she grabbed my covers and tried to rip them off me. I grabbed hold of them just in time. Another millisecond and my guilty mess would have been uncovered. I then proceeded to have a tug of war with my mother over my covers. The stakes: total humiliation. It gave me an almost inhuman strength. If she was going to take my covers she’d have to rip my hands out of their bloody sockets to do it. But it didn’t come to that. After a minute she gave up.

“Oh, Colin, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

“You could try leaving me alone.”

“Hello there,” came a sing-song voice. “What’s going on in here?” Oh great. Grandma. I’m doused in spunk and my Grandma’s in the room. Even if I get through this I’m going to be totally screwed up.

“Oh, Mom,” said my mom, “you ruined the surprise.”

Surprise? Ok, I don’t know why my mother always does this. It’s Thanksgiving week. Every year on Thanksgiving week, my Grandma comes to visit. And every year my mom acts like it’s this big surprise. Every year.

“I’m sorry dear,” said Grandma. “I see you’re having a little trouble getting Nigel out of bed.”

“Ah, I’m Colin.”

Grandma slid her glasses down to the end of her nose, and peered at me closely. “Surely not. Colin is the older one.”

Ok, can I die now?

“That’s ok, Grandma,” said Nigel. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially now that I’m taller than him.”

“You are not taller than me.”

“Good Morning!” said a man’s voice.

Who the…?

“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Reverend,” said my mom.

Holy crap, it’s Reverend Peters! What the hell (if you’ll pardon the expression) is he doing here?

“Not at all,” said the Reverend. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Like hell, you’re not. Oh God, there I go again…and again.

“Of course not. Please come in.”

Thanks Mom. Was there anyone else waiting out there? Saints? Angels? God?

“That’s another surprise ruined,” said my mom. “The Reverend was kind enough to pick your grandma up at the airport, so he’ll be having breakfast with us.”

My cup of joy was overflowing. “Great. That’s just great. I don’t want to keep you. Why don’t you guys get started and I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’m having a little trouble getting sleepyhead out of bed this morning,” said my mom to the Reverend.

“What? On this glorious day?” he cried, with an enthusiasm only ministers seem to be able to pull off. “The sun’s so bright. The sky’s so blue.” Then before I knew what had happened, the Reverend reached down and yanked my covers away.

The world seemed to freeze. There was a moment when my brain just refused to accept what had happened. Then I looked down and saw my partially exposed cock lying in a milky mire of its own creation. I fought back the temptation to scream like a girl. There was dead silence while everyone in the room stared at my soaked crotch.

The first one to react was Nigel. He just burst out laughing. My mom quickly clamped a hand over his eyes, and hustled him from the room, apologizing to the Reverend and Grandma as she went.

The Reverend looked down at me sternly and said, “Young man, we’ll have to have a little talk after breakfast,” and then he left. Great. I can’t wait.

Grandma just chucked and replaced my comforter, giving me back a little of my dignity. It was far too late, but I appreciated the gesture. “Don’t worry about it, Nigel,” she said. “Try Depends.” Then she patted my head and left, closing the door behind her.

Great, Grandma thought I was a bed wetter. Actually she thought Nigel was a bed wetter. I guessed I could live with that. Really, I could live with all of it. On most days, I would probably have been pretty devastated by the morning’s events. But not today. Today was going to be a big day for me. I had been saving for over a month, ever since the fight in The Clearing, and now I finally had enough to buy some of that stuff from Charles, the same stuff that had caused his friend to grow so gigantic in size. And I couldn’t wait to try some. Today my dream would finally come true…but first I had to get through breakfast.

As I came down the stairs I could hear everyone talking happily. Of course, when I entered the room all conversation stopped and was replaced by awkward silence. You know, to tell the truth, I kind of preferred the awkward silence. It certainly beat talking about what happened upstairs and it was also better than everyone falling all over themselves to deliberately avoid the subject. Yeah, give me awkward silence every time. I was actually very happy with the awkward silence—which is, of course, why it couldn’t last.

“Can I get you a pancake, older brother?” asked Nigel.

I just skipped right though all the preliminaries and went straight to: “You’re not taller than me.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “Aren’t I taller than him, Mom?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said my mom. “It’s hard to say.”

“Back to back,” said Nigel. “Come on, Mom, measure us.”

I suddenly got very afraid. Nigel was getting taller. He didn’t have my problem so he would eventually be a normal height. But he couldn’t be taller than me, not yet. I stood up slowly, realizing for the first time just how close Nigel was getting. Crap. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Nigel came running over and stood behind me, his back to my back. I didn’t have to look to know he was standing on his toes.

“Feet flat on the floor, Nigel,” I said.

“They are,” he said, as I felt him slide down against me.

Mom came over and placed her hand between our two heads.

“Well…?” asked Nigel.

I didn’t say anything, because I suddenly realized that if Nigel was taller than me I didn’t want to know. I could feel the back of his skull right up against the back of mine and I knew that this was going to be very close.

“It looks like,” my mom said, “you two are exactly the same height.”

Crap!

“Oh, man!” whined Nigel. “Oh well, I’ll be taller than you by Christmas.” And I knew he was right. If things kept going on the way they were going, my little brother would be looking down on me by the New Year. But I had an ace up my sleeve and if I had anything to say about it, things would not keep going on the way they were going.

“Mom, after breakfast, can you give me a ride to a friend’s house?”

“Not right after breakfast, Colin. The Reverend Peters wants to have a talk with you. And I must say it’s good to have him here, since your father isn’t around.”

My father was British, and, appropriately enough, now lived in England. And I didn’t think the Reverend Peters was any kind of substitute at all. But judging from the amount of time he spent around my Mom, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yes,” said the Reverend, “we really need to discuss this.”

And I had about as much interest in having this talk with him as I had in Chinese water torture.

“Maybe Nigel should sit in, too. He might learn something as well,” said my mom.

Oh sure. I could give a tutorial.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Grandma. “Just make sure he doesn’t drink any liquids before bed. It works for me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Mom didn’t know what to say. Even Nigel didn’t know what to say. God bless Grandma! She’d brought back the awkward silence.

I just wish there had been a way to carry it over to the little talk I had to have with the Reverend. But the pleasantly strained quiet couldn’t last forever, and before I knew it, the Reverend, Nigel and I were sitting in the family room. And the Reverend, he didn’t believe in preliminaries either.

“THE DEVIL,” he began, shouting, and turning as red as the entity about which he was talking, “is inside you, Colin!”

My eyes rolled upwards. Oh Christ—and I meant it. Nigel giggled.

“And he’s inside you as well, young man.” Nigel stopped giggling. “He is in all men. And do you know where he lives?”

I could’ve guessed, but I doubt it would have won me any points.

“Right between the legs.”

Personally, I’d always assumed the devil would look more impressive.

“Every time you feel a stirring down there, that’s him talking to you.”

The devil’s quite a blabbermouth, isn’t he?

“And if you listen to him, he will lead you to wrack and ruin, every time! Every time!”

Next time he says anything, I’ll be sure to rough him up good.

“So resist him! Resist his siren’s call. Wait until the time is right.”

The time is right? What the…? “Excuse me, Reverend, are you saying there’s a right time to give into the devil?”

“No, son, I’m talking about the time when you get ready to start a family of your own.”

“But wouldn’t that involve, you know, the devil?”

“They don’t call it original sin for nothing.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I don’t have to worry then.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, no girl is going to be interested in a skinny little shrimp like me.”

“Colin,” he said, “I can see your soul is in peril.”

What? I glanced down at my body trying to see if I could see what he was seeing, but there was no sign of an endangered soul. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the devil, hiding beneath some denim. He seemed pretty subdued at the moment.

“You are in danger of giving into despair, and despair is the devil’s inroad.”

Wait a minute, if the devil was who the Reverend said he was then the guy didn’t need an inroad; he pretty much already owned me.

“I will meditate on your problem and pray for you.”

“I’ll pray for you, too,” said Nigel.

He’ll pray for me? That condescending little prick! Ok, what I was about to do, I wasn’t going to be proud of. In fact, I expected to hate myself for a full sixty seconds.

“But the devil is in you, too, Nigel.”

“What? I’m just a kid.”

“Not so much, Nigel. You’re thirteen now. You’ve got peach fuzz on you upper lip, a cracking voice, and a habit of bleaching your underwear.”

“How’d you know abo…” Nigel started. Then he froze; the full realization that he’d just given himself away was branded across his face. Of course Mom had known. You can’t hide these things from the person who washes your sheets. That’s why she suggested he sit in on our session.

And I had known as soon as I walked into the laundry room and saw his clumsy attempts at bleaching his underwear. I’m sure most of it had holes by now. It’s not like I held it against him or anything. It’s just that his holier-than-thou attitude was really starting to piss me off. Of course, what was really going to make this fun was the fact he thought no one else knew.

“Nigel?” began the Reverend. “Are you masturbating?”

Nigel’s eyes went bug-wide and he started quivering. If you’ve ever seen a rabbit in front of a semi, then you’ve seen my brother at that moment.

“It’s ok, Nigel,” I said. “I’ll pray for you.”

Then he did exactly what most trapped rabbits do. He jumped up and ran for it. I don’t know where he thought he was going. I guess it was just a panic maneuver. And the Reverend, like the Lord’s hound on the sent of sin, jumped up and ran after him.

“Nigel, come back here. We have to talk about this.”

I heard the pounding of running feet and the slamming of doors, and the crash when an occasional knick-knack fell to the ground, as my brother raced through the house searching desperately for a place to hide, and the Reverend chased after him calling, “Nigel. Nigel stop,” obviously desperate to save him.

I did my time. I spent the full sixty seconds hating myself. Then I sat back and grinned from ear to ear. It’s the little moments in life we learn to treasure.

[Xyggurat]

I like your characterizations. Everyone's just a little bit more colorful in your stories than they would be in real life, which is exactly what makes this refreshing in an age where gritty realism is en vogue.

More than that, the promise of muscle and height growth holds a lot of appeal here.

Lay on, MacDuff, and damned be him that first cries "Hold, enough!"

-X-

[Maverick0095875]

interesting hmmm lol as ussuall i liked oit

[tagsnola]

... dark humor.

ROTFLMAO.

- TagsNOLA

[Speaker]

Its not always that i laugh uprourously (spellcheck that please. Somehow i know its wrong) when im reading so take it as a compliment. Your tongue-in-cheek sense of humor is part of the reason i loved your other stories. The interior monologue must stay. If you remove it, i cant promise i wont come to your house and murder you. Its that good. And dont think that i cant find out where you live. After all:

"Its called the Freedom of Information Act. The hippies finally got something right! Haha. Just kidding. But not really." - Dodgeball.

So keep it up. Your writing stile is excellent, your humor makes it extremely enjoyable, and as usual, you can expect all of us to be on the edge of our seats waiting for your next installment.

[Demandred]

I really enjoyed 'Second Puberty', and I love the voice you've adopted for the series. It's the same in this story, too; I look forward to reading more. :]

[michaelv2]

A wonderful scene, well paced, and hilarious. The Mark Twain of muscle growth fiction?

[wolfotehmoon]

The fact that I can relate to Colin in terms of familial relationships made this all the more satisfying. Sankyuu, Jaypat.

[redroger11]

Oh man, you rock! Michaelv2 has the right nick name for you. the MToMGF.
Jaypat, you are the seven hundred pound hairless Gorilla of the Comedy Muscle Growth Stories. And we really will pray for you, too. That ya keep writing like you have been. Just excellent.

redroger

[mlbjock]

That was a great setup! And the humor was well awesome. I was cracking up the whole time.

[redkage]

The start of another great classic, good job Jaypat!

Even though I know this story is technically a spin off of Second Puberty, it's told in a way that it can actually stand by itself, so new readers can still understand it. The characters all have their unique personality and it just goes together perfectly.

You have become one of the best writers on the forum JP!
-Red

P.S. Love the preacher's sermon, btw.

[TemptationIV]

Could this story be off to a better start?



...Probably not. Definitely looking forward to the next chapters!

[Jaypat]

The Mark Twain of MG? I'm flattered but he's probably rolling over in his grave.

I'm gald people can follow this even if they aren't familer with Second Puberty. That was a concern.

I'm glad you guys like it so far. Colin has a rough road ahead of him. Things aren't going to be quite as straight forward as he thinks. I hope you guys stick with him for the trip.

Again, thanks for all the feed back. It's impossible to convey how much it motervates me.

[Ender]

Even better that we will soon be seeing a lot more of him...

The little brother, Nigel, needling Colin about size is perfect. As is the change of Colin's position from "Big Brother" to "Older Brother" is dead on... I know because my "Little Brother" started to call me his "Older Brother" in our mid teens (He's two years and two week younger and I was always a bit short and a lot of people would ask if we twins... he loved it and I tried not to act like Edward Elric when people assume Alphonse was older.

I'm a bit surprised that Charles is going to charge Colin so much for the "Gear" that Colin is having to save up the buy his first dose/supply... I had assumed that Charles Gear is an injectable and not an oral agent. And I can see that since Colin's family thinks nothing of trampling Colin's privacy having the "Grow Gear" stashed in is room will be a problem and his mom, bro, and the Rev (that I would bet is "sleeping" with Colin's mom) will figure Colin's has become a doper... But the grand mother despite so far seeming senile will figure understand what Colin is up to... I also have a hunch that Nigel will cop a few doses from his bro and maybe replace them with water...

I think it's also a good bet that Nigel is a total paranoid about his privacy and people coming in to his room.

One thing we don't know about Colin and is family yet is how affluent are they... As a household supported by a single mom with at least 2 teenage boys (and possibly more siblings) it's likely money is tight and Colin's mom may a bit thankful Colin stopped growing... that way she has one less kid that will be out growing his clothes several times a year... not cheap...

I wrote a similar bit in "A Deal's a Deal" with little Donnie (Donald Duckworth) going from less than 5ft/100lb to pro basketball player size in like 4-6 weeks... Tony Canton, the protagonist of "...Deal" felt sorry for Donnie who had great bball moves and sense but was too small to play with other guys his age... So Tony gave him a body that would let Donnie play with the big guys... and give Howie, Donnie's little brother (Howard T. Duckworth), a big brother he could really look up to... But Tony started Donnie on his way to being a Big Man on Campus, Tony didn't know Donnie's dad had been laid-off for some and the family was bearly getting by and keeping food on the table. As Donnie started to near 6ft Tony noticed that instead of being elated Donnie was getting increasingly depressed... So Tony talks to Donnie and finds out that Donnie felt awful because as he saw it his growing (that he and his family thing is great) was tearing his family apart,,, He would eat more than the rest of his family put together and still wanted more food and that he kept out growing his clothes a couple of times a week... and he knew that even shopping clearances at thrift stores his parents couldn't keep him fed and clothed... Donnie told Tony that when he under 5ft/100lb that every day he would wish that he finally start to grow the way he is now, but now with the strain that his growing is putting on his family he wish that he had never started this growth spurt... Tony had intended to grant Donnie his heart's desire but because Tony was careless in specifying how to grant Donnie's wish, Tony was destroying the Duckworth family... To correct his oversight of feeding and clothing Donnie during and after the growth spurt Tony arranges that Donnie's dad would find a winning lottery ticket that would maintain Donnie's family for several years...

Ender

[chocomus]

Great start!

but while i was reading it i got a constant feeling of "deja vu" as if i was reading the same part over and over again well, i guess it was my imagination