Trick or Treat

[Jaypat]

It must have been about 6:30 when the doorbell rang. I grabbed my bowlful of candy and prepared to greet the cute little toddlers I expected to find outside, probably dressed as ladybugs or teddy bears and accompanied by smiling parents. After all, it wasn’t even dark yet, so I expected only the youngest kids would be out trick-or-treating so early.

But when I opened my door I found Bobby Kilpecki, the kid next door. I couldn’t help notice he was dressed only in jeans, a t-shirt and stocking feet, not much of a costume and woefully inadequate for the early autumn evening.

“Hey, Mr. Philips,” he said, laughing nervously. “Trick or treat.”

“Uh, hey, Bobby,” I answered, instinctively going to yellow alert. I had nothing against Bobby. I actually liked the kid. He was 17, about 5’ 9”, kind of gangly and awkward with an unruly mop of hair that was desperately trying to be fashionable. He had a winning smile and a generally positive, upbeat attitude; all in all, a good kid.

So you’re probably wondering why he made me uneasy. Well, it was pretty obvious he was gay; picked up on it right away. Call it gaydar if you want, but it was pretty easy to see, mostly in the way he was always ogling me. But that in itself didn’t bother me. It wasn’t too long ago I was in high school and I wasn’t much different. I was a little taller than he was, hitting 6’ even, but I was skinny, lonely, and being gay, I felt a little like an alien. But as soon as I got to college I started hitting the gym. I spent the next four years getting comfortable with myself and building a killer body in the process, not really huge, but big. I had some serious biceps, killer abs, broad defined shoulders and a solid powerful chest and back. My legs were nothing to sneeze at either. And I had a decent face to top it all off.

But now I was just out of college, with my first real job that paid decent money, and I was spending most of it to live in a nice neighborhood—the lack of funds being the main reason I was home on Halloween night—and I really didn’t want any trouble with the Kilpeckis, just because their son happened to have a teenage crush on me.

And young Bobby definitely had a crush on me. He was almost always tongue tied when he spoke to me, tripping over his words and letting his eyes roam all over my torso. And it wasn’t just the way he talked to me. I liked to sunbathe in my backyard, and on several occasions I’d noticed him watching me out of his bedroom window--sometimes with binoculars. But I remembered what it was like to be him, so I never said anything about it. And I was actually kind of flattered to be jerk-off material for a horny teenager. Let him have his fun.

But it was another thing altogether to have him in my home. This was defiantly an awkward situation. I made no secret about my life style. I frequently brought guys home; so by this time there couldn’t be much doubt in the neighborhood about what side of the tracks I called home. So far everybody had been pretty cool about it, so the last thing I wanted was the Kilpeckis thinking I was corrupting their son—or worse.

But maybe I was panicking for no reason. Maybe this was just a shameless attempt to score some free sweets.

“You’re not schilling for candy, are you Bobby?”

“Not exactly,” he said “but since you offered…” he plucked a Reese’s cup out of the candy bowl, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Philips,” he continued, slightly garbled by the chocolate he was consuming, “but, I’m locked out, my parents aren’t home and it’s getting kind of cold.”

I sighed. It didn’t look like I was going to be able to avoid this.

“Well, come on in, Bobby. We can’t have you freezing.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if coming in was a big step. Oh boy, I didn’t like where this was going already. “Thanks, Mr. Philips,” he said, as he finally entered.

I was only five years older than him and almost asked him to call me Greg, but I actually liked the distance the mister put between us. “So, where are your parents?”

“Ah,” he said, “I’m not actually sure.”

“So, you don’t know when they’ll be back.”

“No, sorry.”

Damn. “That’s alright. Come on in and have a seat. Would you like something to drink,” I asked.

“No, that’s alright,” he said sitting down and fidgeting. He looked kind of nervous.

“Is something wrong, Bobby?”

“No, not really, it’s just that… Do you believe in magic, Mr. Philips?”

“Magic? What, you mean like pixie dust and fairy godmothers?”

“No, not like that. I mean magic, like witchcraft?”

“Oh, you mean like Harry Potter.”

“No, not like that either. I’ve got a friend whose, like, really into it. He draws chalk circles on the floor, chants, burns things, stuff like that.”

Oh man, teenage phases, the garbage they get into. Oh well, I guess it was their last chance to be kids before they had to go out into the real world. Why spoil it? “That sounds pretty hard core,” I said.

“It is. We went to see this old lady today, she was the real thing. I mean, long scraggly white hair, bent nose, wart, the works.”

“Sounds like a candidate for Extreme Makeover,” I said, chuckling.

He laughed nervously. “Yeah. Funny you should say that, ’cause that’s kinda the reason we went.”

“To give her a face lift and a dye job?”

“No, to kinda get makeovers ourselves.”

This kid didn’t need a makeover. All he needed to do was eat a better diet and lift a few weights. That would probably cure most of his problems.

“You want to get made over, Bobby?”

“Yeah,” he said, “oh yeah. More than anything.”

“Really? What would you change?”


“I want to be hot,” he said, “really good looking, and big, no huge.”

“Huge?” I said. “Well, you can probably do most of that without magic.”

“Not the kind of huge I’m talking about. I want to be scraping my head on the ceiling. I want to have muscles like mountains,” he said half heartedly flexing his slight limbs.

Wow this kid really did have issues, and I’m not sure I felt comfortable hearing them.

“Well, that’s a nice fantasy,” I said, “but it’s not really practical.”

“I know,” he said, “That’s why I needed the magic. Man, you don’t know the things she put me through. You know she killed a bull right in front of us and gutted it? I don’t want to tell you the things I had to eat, or breathe in, or say. I don’t even speak Latin and I couldn’t make one pronunciation mistake.”

Holy crap, was I that dumb when I was his age? “Sounds rough. I hope it was worth it.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out at sunset.”

“Why sunset?” I asked. I looked out the window and noticed it was almost sunset now.

“I’m not sure I completely understand it, he said, “but as far as I know, there’s a lot of occult energy in the air today, since it’s Halloween, and it goes into overdrive as soon as the sun sets, so that’s when it begins.”

“When what begins?” I asked.

“The spell,” he said.

“Oh right,” I said. “That’s when you get big.”

“Well, that’s when it starts,” he said. “I’m not sure how long it will take but I’ve got until midnight, and then… and then it ends.”

“You go back to being normal?”

He nodded, “But there is one way I can make it permanent,” he said, “one simple way.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Is it sunset yet,” he asked looking at his watch, “because I really shouldn’t tell you until after sunset.”

I laughed. “I imagine its close enough to sunset.”

“No,” he said, “There’s still another thirty seconds. I set my watch so it would be accurate to the second.”

Wow this kid was really taking things seriously.

He laughed. “Man, I’m actually kind of nervous,” he said. “I mean I’ve been wanting this my whole life and now that it’s here, I’m a little scared. Pretty stupid, hunh?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to be nervous about,” I said, trying to be diplomatic.

“…and sunset now!” he said staring at his watch. And suddenly he sat up straight and gasped. “Whoa,” he said, sounding a little short of breath. “What a rush. I didn’t expect it to hit me like that, but whoa.”

I smiled. I wasn’t sure if the kid was putting on an act for me, or if he really believed something was happening. “So, now you grow?” I asked.

“I guess,” he said staring at his hands, wiggling his fingers, and opening and closing them. “I definitely feel a little weird.”

“Magic will do that,” I said. Time to change the subject. “You hungry, Bobby? I was about to make some dinner, just a couple of chicken breasts, some brown rice and a green salad, but you’re welcome to join me.”

“Thanks, yeah,” said Bobby, “actually I’m starved.”

“Great,” I said as I moved into the kitchen with Bobby following right behind me.

I began pulling the chicken breasts out of the fridge while Bobby sat on a chair and watched me.

“Man, I’m so hungry,” he said, “I think I could eat an entire chicken.”

“Oh really?” I forgot; teenage boys were always hungry. “I’ll put on an extra one for you then.”

“Thanks,” he said. He really didn’t say much after that; he just sat there feeling his own arms and chest and passing his hands over his stomach.

After about ten minutes of this I had to ask, “Are you feeling ok?”

“Yeah, great,” he said. “It’s just that I think… I’m growing.” Then after a brief pause, “Can I use your bathroom.”

“Sure, it’s right across the hall,” I said, gesturing in the general direction.

“Thanks,” he said and then he hopped out of the chair and disappeared into the bathroom. A second later I heard him shout, “HOLY SHIT!”

I dropped my kitchen knife and ran to the door. “Are you alright in there?” I called.

“Yeah,” he answered. It sounded like he was laughing. “Yeah, I’m great. No, I’m fantastic, just fucking fantastic.”

“Ok,” I said, not really sure how to react. I realized it wasn’t all that long ago that I’d been a teenager but right then, it seemed like a million years. I had no idea how to relate to this kid. “If you need anything, just shout,” I said.

“Ok,” he said, “Thanks.”

I turned to head back to the kitchen, but I stopped when I heard him call, “Hey, do you have any…” He trailed off.

“Yes?” I called back.

“No, it’s ok. Never mind,” he said.

“Alright,” I called and went back to fixing dinner.

Another fifteen minutes went by and he didn’t come out. I was about to go and ask what he was doing in there, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know. He came out just about the time I was pulling the chicken from the oven. I saw him coming and I had to do a double take. He looked different, fuller somehow. It might have been a trick of the light but he seemed to have pecs he hadn’t had before. I could see them pushing out underneath his t-shirt causing it to tent slightly. I’d swear he was pretty flat when he went in there. But it wasn’t just that. His shoulders seemed a little broader, and even his arms looked a little thicker. But it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Of course it wasn’t possible. What was I thinking? He had to have been like that when he came in. I just wasn’t paying attention, that’s all. But now I was. Little Bobby had obviously been working out. And when I looked at him, I realized I’d been wrong about his height, too. He was actually closer to 5’ 10”.

He saw me staring at him and shrugged. “It’s really starting to show, isn’t it?” he asked.

And then I realized I’d been checking him out. I was checking out Bobby Kilpecki. What the fuck was the matter with me?

“Ah…Yeah… well, I hope you're hungry,” I stumbled out the words, and set out his food.

“Thanks,” he said. “Oh man, am I starving!” Then he practically dove into the food. He devoured everything I’d set out in almost no time flat. When he finished, he sat back, looked down at his chest and flexed his arms. Christ, he had some arms on him, much bigger than I originally thought. It was strange that I hadn’t noticed-- even when I looked just a short while ago. Then I remembered how there were some guys who were like that. They looked like nothing until they flexed and then suddenly BAM! Muscles would just blow up out of nowhere. Bobby must be like that. Regardless, he had some nice arms for a kid.

“Man,” he said looking down at his bulging arms, “look at me. Look how big I got. The food must really have helped. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but have you got any more.”

“Bobby, I’m a bachelor,” I said. “My fridge is 90% leftovers. Help yourself.”

“Really? Thanks,” he said and made a dash for the fridge.

“Just don’t eat anything that’s green and fuzzy,” I called after him.

“Ok, I won’t…” he called back his voice already garbled by a mouth full of food.

And he started going through my fridge shoving anything that looked even remotely edible down his throat. Oh well, my refrigerator had been looking a little stuffed lately and I’d been meaning to clean it out anyway. Now I guess didn’t have to. I don’t think a single plastic tub escaped his attention. I watched him quaff down food like an eating machine.

“Man, all this food,” he said in between mouthfuls, “it’s making me feel pretty damn incredible, like my body’s charging up all over.”

It was then I started to notice something weird. As he bent over the lower shelves in my fridge, I had a pretty good view of his back and it seemed to be shifting under his t-shirt. It looked like it was moving independently from the rest of his body. I leaned forward to get a better look and, oh my God, his back wasn't moving.

It was growing.

I rubbed my eyes because a part of me refused to believe it. But when I looked again I could still see it.

“Man,” said Bobby, still chewing, “I can tell I’m getting bigger. It feels awesome, like I’m inflating… but with cement.”

And his back was swelling up, gradually getting thicker and wider, slowly pulling the cloth snug around it as it grew undulating ridges and plateaus.

“Damn, my shirt’s getting all tight and clingy.”

And then he finished eating and stood up. Holy fuck! It wasn’t possible. He was big! But he couldn’t be. But he was. Damn, he was big! Look at him. He had a wide back, broad shoulders and when he turned toward me I saw big pecs that were stretching his shirt across his torso, pulling it tight in some places and forcing it to bunch up in others. And the bottom had hiked up so I caught a peek of his midriff and a glimpsed some powerful looking abs.

“Holy shit!” he gapped, looking down on his large body that was suddenly packed with hard, bulging muscle and stuffed into his now undersized t-shirt. “Man, look at the size of me!” he grinned looking down as he flexed his arms by his side. “I feel all fuckin’ solid and bumpy.” And he looked it too. His biceps grew out of him like vein covered grapefruit and his forearms were rippling with thick cords. Damn, he was just a skinny kid a few minutes ago, just a kid…

“This is fucking awesome,” he laughed. “Hey, Mr. Philips, I’m as tall as you.”

Jesus, he was. Fuck.

“I’m not sure I understand what’s happening, Bobby…” I stammered. That was the understatement of the decade.

“Yes you do, Mr. Philips. I told you,” he said, flexing his legs and watching his large hams bulge up and stretch his jeans. “It’s the spell, and I guess all this food just helped move things along. Hey, you know what else I bet would move things along?” he said flexing and admiring his new bulging, ripped biceps.

I just shook my head, mutely, staring dumbfounded at the suddenly tall, muscular neighbor kid.

“Some weights,” he said. “You’ve got a weight set in your basement, don’t you, Mr. Philips? Besides, I want to see how strong I’m getting. I feel awesome. You think maybe I’m as strong as you?” And before I could say anything else, Bobby turned his wide, muscular back on me and made right for the basement door, opened it and disappeared down the stairs. It took a second for my brain to stop flopping around like a fish, and then I followed him.

When I got down there, he was already loading plates on to the bar. Watching his large, shredded arms flex as he handled the weights, I tried to decide if his biceps were as big as mine… or bigger.

“This is what you bench, isn’t it? About 250?” asked the muscle kid.

“Yeah, I…” Hey wait a minute. “How do you know what I bench? How did you even know I had a weight set down here?”

“That’s easy,” said Bobby. “I watch you work out from right up there.” I watched his tight t-shirt sleeve roll off his substantial bicep as he raised his arm and pointed toward a small basement window, high up on the wall.

“You watch me work out?” I cried. Holy crap!

“All the time.”

“But Bobby,” I stammered. “Sometimes I work out…”

“Naked. I know.”

Jesus, this kid had been spying on me. Growth or no growth, that had to stop. “Bobby, that’s my personal business. You can’t peer into my windows and watch me. That’s a serious invasion of privacy, and it’s illegal!” That’s not all it was. I mean I did some pretty personal things when I worked out naked. I wondered how much he’d seen.

“Oh,” he said, “sorry. But I watch you sunbathe in your backyard all the time, and I know you’ve seen me do it. You never said anything about that. What’s the difference?”

“There’s a difference. Stop watching me through windows.” And I made a mental note to start sunbathing in the side yard, the one that didn’t face his house.

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Hey, I’m going to add a few more 45s, just to see what I can do.”

As Bobby was adding the plates, I thought about asking him to leave, but something held me back. Maybe I was over reacting. Maybe it was just a small leap from ogling me in the backyard to watching me lift through the basement window. Maybe he just didn’t know better. And then there was the fascination of watching his growth. I’d never seen anything like it. It really was like magic. It was freaky. And it was hot.

Bobby slid onto the bench and under the barbell. Holy fuck, he had 430 pounds on there.

“Bobby,” I said, “maybe you shouldn’t push your luck. You could hurt yourself.”

“Nah,” he said. “It’ll be ok, Mr. Philips. My whole body is like an unstoppable machine. It’ll take anything you can throw at it and use it to grow. Wait til you see what this does to me. You think I’m big now? Just wait. In a minute you’re gonna be shittin’ your pants.”

“Ok,” I said, shaking my head, “430 it is.” The kid looked big, but there weren’t many guys who could bench 430 pounds. I doubted he’d even get it off the rack.

“Thanks, Mr. Philips.

Bobby grabbed the bar with fierce determination. He tried to lift it off the supports. They guy turned three shades of red but he couldn’t do it. He took a deep breath and tired again. Again he turned as red as a fire engine, but this time he managed to get it off the support. Fuck his arms were exploding with muscle and as he lifted the bar, I saw his big triceps just pop out and form deep, thick horseshoes. Fuck, look at those things. I gulped. Oh man, his arms were bigger than mine. Bobby Kilpecki’s arms were bigger than mine! How the hell did that happen?

“Damn, I can feel them,” he breathed. “I can actually feel the hard muscles swelling up on my arms… like they’re going to blast right out of my skin.”

I moved in to spot him but I didn’t know how much help I was going to be with that much fucking weight.

And then, shaking, he slowly lowered it down to his chest. His face was turning bright red with the effort. His wide neck was straining, thick cords of muscle standing out all over it. And when he got to the bottom, “Oh fuck!” he cried. “So damn heavy. Fuck, fuck, fuck. But four-hundred and thirty fucking pounds! A couple of hours ago, this would have crushed my chest. But not anymore.”

No, it sure as hell wouldn’t. I could see those pecs, two solid mounds of shredded muscle bullying his t shirt even with his arms lowered. And look at those fucking shoulders; they were like rocks. And that t-shirt, the way it wrapped around him so tightly, I wasn’t sure how it held together. I could see his abs right through it, six blocks of muscle pushing up from his stomach. And his arms, damn, they had passed big and were heading for huge. I didn’t know, what was happening to him, but I found it so fucking hot I was really getting stiff.

“But I think…, Mr. Philips,” he said through gritted teeth. “Yeah, oh yeah! Here I fucking go!” I could tell he was trying to lift it back. His face was so red if anymore blood rushed up there, I was sure it would pop. And I couldn’t tell if he was making progress or just holding his own.

And then it started happening; unbelievably, he started pushing it back up. “FUCK!” he yelled and his whole body started shaking. Oh my God! His muscles… they were growing. I began hearing popping threads and tearing seams as his body started erupting with size and ripping its way out of his shirt. Jesus, his muscles were bulging up bigger and bigger right in front of me. And fuck, his entire frame was getting heavier. “ARRRRRRRGH!” he yelled as the sleeves around his delts exploded, destroyed by shoulders were now huge, ripped and segmented. And his arms, fuck his arms were blasting into massiveness right in front of my eyes.

“Yes!” he shouted “I can feel it! I can feel the muscle!” And I could see it. I could see the sinew weaving together making those fucking horseshoes thicker, and those biceps bulkier. There was more tearing around his torso and a second later, his mammoth pecs just erupted out of his shirt. They were huge ripped mountains of muscle, sandwiched between his giant arms and engorged with blood as he strained with all his might to push that weight up.

And then BAM it was up. It was all the way up! That kid had benched 430 pounds. Damn.

“Oh yeah!” he shouted, a shit eating grin on his face. “Fuck yeah!” Then he did another rep only this time it seemed easy for him. “Sweet,” he said, laughing. Then he quickly pounded out another five reps before he racked the weight almost casually.

He leapt up off the bench and I had to jump back. Holly fuck, he was gigantic! About 6’ 3”, the kid weighed 350 if he weighed a pound. He tore off the shredded remains of his t-shirt and hoooooly fuck, he was all muscle, every freaking, bulging, vein covered inch of him. His pecs were like round hard melons, his shoulders and back were as wide as my doors. His upper arms were at least the size of my head, with thick angry veins leading up to bowling ball delts. His jeans had been loose fitting when he’d arrived, but now the cuffs were half way up a monstrous pair of calves which they hugged so tightly, they had to be cutting off his circulation. And his mammoth quads and hams were squeezed so snugly into his pant legs I was sure the slightest flex would destroy his jeans completely. And his package… I could see the zipper pushed out as far as it could go in a giant bulge, and practically breaking under the strain.

“How do you like me now, Mr. Philips?” he said, strutting over to the old mirror I had hanging up on the wall. “Look at me! I’m pretty fucking big now, aren’t I?” He hit a double bi, admiring the twin granite peaks as they erupted from his arms. “Now I know how you feel. When you’re working out naked and you set a new personal best. You leap off the bench and punch the air. Then you get all hard and start flexing in the mirror and jerking off to yourself. That’s so awesome. I love it.”

Jesus, he’s seen that? Holy fuck.

“And now I know exactly how you felt.” Then he reached down to unzip his fly. But it didn’t quite work that way. The tab broke off in his thick fingers and the zipper burst apart as his cotton covered package exploded out from the confining garment. Man, look at the size of that thing.

Bobby looked down, grinned. “Fuck,” he said, “I’m big everywhere.” Then he started to try to peel his pants off of his enormous muscle encased legs. He was having trouble.

“Damn, these were my loosest pants. They’re so fucking tight now,” he said, “I don’t know. Maybe I could…” He trailed off then slipped his meaty hands under his waistband and, with a heart stopping RIIIIIP, just tore the pants right off his body, underwear and all. Fuck.

He stood there, completely naked, staring at himself in the mirror. And from the expression on his face, it looked like he was just as stunned by what he saw as I was. Damn, he was muscle perfection. Besides that killer upper body, he had the legs of a total beast. Each of his huge thighs was every bit as big around as his waist and carved with rolling, rippling sinew. His balls were like two tangerines and his cock hung over them almost to his knees, thick and heavy as a fire hose. And as I stood staring open-mouthed at this vision, I saw that cock start to lengthen and grow stiff.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know exactly how you felt.”

No, he didn’t. Whatever he was feeling now, I was pretty sure I’d never come close.

“Now I guess it’s safe to tell you,” he said turning around. His cock was pointing at me like an accusing finger.

“Tell me what,” I stammered.

“How I can make the spell permanent.”

“How do you make it permanent?” I asked, mesmerized.

“You have to submit to me. By midnight, you have to submit to me.”

“Submit to you?”

“Yeah, you know, submit to me.”

“Oh, ok. I submit to you. Is it permanent now?”

“No,” he smiled, “it’s not that simple. I need to plant my massive muscle cock in that sweet little butt of yours to stay like this, so heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to fuck you up the ass, Mr. Philips, right here, right now,” he said taking a step toward me, “whether you like it or not.”

Wait a minute. I mean he was uber hot and all, but he was still Bobby Kilpecki, the neighbor’s kid. I and I can’t say I particularly liked his attitude.

“You’re just a kid,” I said. “I can’t have sex with you.”

He laughed. “I’m over the age of consent, and right now I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be. I mean look at me.” And he pulled a most muscular. Fuck. All that huge muscle bulging up all over him looked granite hard and ripped. There was no doubt he was the biggest man I’d ever seen, far bigger and stronger than I was or was ever likely to be.

“And you know what?” he continued. “I’m only gonna get bigger.”

And he took a step forward. I couldn’t help it. I took a step back.

“Don’t fight me, Mr. Philips,” he said. “Don’t make me hurt you. Because I can hurt you…way too easily… if I wanted.” He took another step toward me. I looked up at the grin on his face, full of self confidence and lust and suddenly I was scared. He was so fucking big now. If he tried to force this I’d have a fight on my hands—one I couldn’t win.

But I was still the adult here. Maybe I should try treating him like a kid. “I think you better go, Bobby,” I said.

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” he said. “Why don’t you just make it easier on both of us and let me fuck you now.”

“Go home, Bobby.” I turned around and walked up the steps. It took everything I had not to break into a run.

“So you don’t want it easy? Ok, hard can be fun, too.” I could hear his heavy footstep thudding up the stairs behind me. I walked over to the front door, fully intending to pull it open and show him the way out. But the door was stuck. I jerked on it hard a couple of times, but it wouldn’t open.

“Did I mention my friend is really good with locking spells?” said Bobby. My God, his voice was dropping, too. “The doors and windows won’t open until midnight and the glass is a strong as steel plating. There’s no way out, so why don’t you just relax, and we’ll, you know, get it on?”

“This is crazy,” I said, and I went to the kitchen, to the back door but that was jammed as well.

“Come on, Mr. Philips, you know you want me,” said Bobby following me in. “I’ve seen you lying out there in the sun, that hot butt of yours just begging for some big muscle stud to come fuck it. Why shouldn’t that big muscle stud be me?”

“Stay away from me, Bobby.”

“Not a chance. Without you I go back to dorksville and that just ain’t gonna happen.”

“I’ll call the police.”

“You could if the phones worked, but oops,” he said lifting the dead phone receiver, “I thought of that, too.” He smashed the phone against the wall and it exploded into a million pieces. “Cell phones won’t work either, so why don’t you just settle down and show me that pretty little butt of yours.”

I was really getting scared now. “Why don’t we talk about this?”

“Talk? And I suppose you want roses and a steak dinner, too. I’ve got your steak dinner right here,” he said, grabbing his substantial cock. “Now bend over and take it like a man.”

I thought about making a dash for it but he was standing between me and the door. Damn, what was I going to do?

“What’s the matter, Mr. Philips?” asked Bobby. “You don’t want me? I see the kind of guys you bring home, big muscle guys, all of them. Aren’t I big enough for you?”

I wanted to say, “No, that’s not it.” But all I could do was shake my head.

“Really? Not big enough? Well, maybe there’s something I can do about that.” He opened the cabinet next to him. Oh crap. I had to have about thirty or forty cans of tuna in there.

Of all the things I’ve seen you eat, I never understood how you could eat so much tuna,” he said helping himself to a can.

“You… you watched me eat?”

“All the time. Most days I know what you’re going to eat before you do.” He looked at the can in his hand.

“But tuna, I can’t stand the stuff myself, but you know this could always change my mind.” He looked at the can for a second puzzled. “No can opener…” He got this evil grin on his face. “Maybe I don’t need one anymore,” and then he just ripped the can apart. Holy crap. There was an explosion of murky water as it spilled out onto the floor. “Whoa,” he said, looking impressed with himself. “Look at what I can do.” Then he scooped the meat out of the mangled tin with one thick finger and swallowed it down.

“This stuff totally sucks,” he said, making a face, “but it’s gonna be good for me, really, really good for me. Gonna build me some massive muscles.” He wadded up the empty mangled can like it was a paper cup and tossed it aside, with a cocky grin on his face. “Look how fuckin’ strong I am already, and I’m about to get way fuckin’ stronger. Doesn’t it make you hard just thinking about how fuckin’ massive I’m gonna get?” Then he reached back into the cupboard and pulled out another one. RIIIP! More fishy water all over the floor. “I love fucking doing that,” he said. “It takes fuckin’ muscle to do that, more fuckin’ muscle than you’ve got, Mr. Philips; that’s for sure.” This time he just dumped the tuna directly into his mouth, the packing water dribbling down his chin and the sides of his face. “Fucking nasty tasting shit, but I’m gonna eat every muscle growing scrap of it so I’ll become a fuckin’ muscle monster!” Crinkle crinkle, toss. “A fuckin’ tower of muscle, that’s gonna be me.” He went through can after can like this, just shoving the stuff into his mouth and down his throat, wadding up the cans and throwing them aside.

After he tossed the last ravaged can away, he suddenly turned to me, his eyes went wide and he said, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. It’s coming, oh man. I can feel it fucking coming. OH FUUUUUUUUCK!” And his body began just exploding muscle. His chest started pulsing and heaving as it expanded to the size of basketballs. “OOOOH YEAH!” he cried. His shoulders just seemed to stretch out impossibly wide and grow dense with thick, cut muscle. Giant traps rose up next to his widening neck while huge slabs of muscle bulged up out of his back, making his entire body seem bigger and thicker. “AH HA HA HA!” he shouted. His whole frame was stretching up and up as his abs bulged up to the size of my fist. “BICEP TIME!” he cried and as he flexed his upper arms, they swelled and bulged bigger and bigger until they were nearly twice size of my head, with veins the width of my fingers running up and over their baseball sized peaks.

“So sweet!” he said, as the growth finally stopped. He had to be around 6’ 8” and just one impossibly wide mass of gigantic ripped muscles, one rolling into the next, and he was grinning down at me over those massive, striated pecs. Fuck.

“Am I big enough for you now?” he roared, and I could hear my dishes rattling with the force of his voice. He began flexing, making those enormous muscles burst up all over him, and he began rubbing himself, running his fingers over every inch of his huge sculpted marble like body. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Oh fuck, yeah.”

And I was hard, too. I couldn’t help myself. Watching that self worship session over that enormous muscle ridden body, it was all I could do to keep from coming in my pants. But that didn’t mean I was ready to submit to him. God only knew what he might do to me, and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be exactly gentle. And looking at the size of his tool, I was pretty sure it would involve internal bleeding.

Bobby was so engrossed in himself, I realized I actually had a chance to get by him. There was another exterior door in the garage. If I could just get to it, maybe I could get out of here.

I watched Bobby squeezing a massive pec with one hand while the other one stroked his giant cock. His eyes were closed and he was moaning. I could tell he was only seconds away from cumming. I realized it was my chance and I took it.

I ran for all I was worth, past Bobby, out of the kitchen and into the living room. I made it half way to the garage door before I felt the wind of a huge object passing above me. I ducked and covered myself just as my antique desk flew over my head and smashed into the door, blocking my way. Holy crap, that desk was solid mahogany; it had taken three guys to carry it in here, and Bobby had just thrown it across the room like it was a toy. Damn.

I heard Bobby laugh. “Where do you think you’re going, little man? Bobby’s got a big stick of Halloween candy for you.” I turned around. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of the young giant. The image was burned into my brain forever, those massive, heaving pecs, those rippling abs swelling in and out with each breath, those giant arms arched out at his sides, curving and rolling like a hilly landscape, so much hard, pulsing muscle driven by an enormous, angry looking cock that had obviously not gotten off.

I didn’t waste anymore time. Fortunately the garage door opened outward so I scrambled up over the ruins of my desk, pushed the door open and lurched out into my garage. I had a heavy set of shelves right by the door, and as soon as I was through, I slammed the door shut and toppled the shelves over in front of it. I had no illusions about being safe. I only hoped it would slow the massive teen down long enough for me to get out.

I ran for the door, but damn, it was stuck too. I threw myself against it, but nothing. All that hard earned muscle had no effect whatsoever. I may as well have been a five-year-old.

BAM! I heard the concussion against the inside door. It splintered and cracked and the toppled shelves slid a foot across the cement floor making a metallic grinding noise. Fuck! I had seconds.

I leapt into my car. Fortunately I had the keys in my pocket. I might not be able to dent the door but let’s see how the big garage door would do against six cylinders. I started the engine just as I heard the inner door explode into shards.

“Where are you going, Mr. Philips?” he boomed.

I hit the accelerator and prepared myself for the impact.

But it never came.

The car wasn’t moving. What the fuck? I gunned the accelerator again but there was nothing, nothing except the squeal of tires against cement. I looked behind me and all I could see in my rear window was a pair of giant striated pecs, bulging with strain. Holy fuck. Bobby had a hold of my car and was keeping it back, using nothing but pure muscle.

“This is so fucking awesome,” he yelled. “I’m stopping a fucking car!” He started laughing. “You’re not getting out that way, Mr. Philips, but go ahead and try.”

And I did. I hit the accelerator and just kept pouring gas into the engine. I heard it rev up loud and strong. It leapt forward a couple of inches and then stopped cold. I kept the pressure on and the car started to shake. It had to give soon. It had to. There was no way Bobby could hold onto it long, not with that kind of torque.

“Oh fuck!” I heard Bobby call. “Yes! This is the shit! Keep going, Mr. Philips. Try harder!”

I looked out my rear window and my breath stopped. There were those huge pecs, but holy crap, the striations were getting thicker, the huge muscle globes were pushing out further, bulging up fuller. And fuck they were rising up, as if Bobby was on some kind of a lift. Fuck! He was getting bigger and taller. Just like with the weights, straining his muscles on my car was helping him get even more colossal.

I took my foot off the peddle, killed the engine and jumped out of the car.

“Oh man, what’d you do that for? It was just getting good.” I heard his voice coming from the rear of my car as I ducked down and slid around the front of the car to hide.

“You’re funny, Mr. Philips. You can’t hide from me like that.”

And suddenly the car lurched, but not forward, upward. I could hear Bobby groaning and grunting from the rear. Holy fuck, my car was slowly rising up off the ground. It… it had to be Bobby.

“I’m gonna…ughhhhh… pick up your…ahhhh… car, Mr. Philips,” he called, the strain evident in his voice. “I’m gonna pick it up…ughhhhh… and it’s gonna make me so huge, so fuckin’ massive…arghhh…I’ll have so much fukin’ muscle…ahhhh… nothing you can do will be able to stop me…ughhh…nothing.”


I looked under the car and sure enough, I caught sight of his feet, shuffling back and forth as they adjusted for the weight. Holy crap, look at those feet. They were huge and they seemed to be growing even more, becoming more solid with heavier bones, throbbing veins, and widening toes.! Jesus, how big was he going to get?

The car continued to rise revealing two calves rapidly blowing up to the size of soccer balls, flaring out larger and flexing behind his giant thickening shin bones. And as his knees came into view they almost appeared to be shrinking, as they were completely overwhelmed by his massive expanding thighs. Oh my God, his upper legs were evolving into huge undulating, tightly woven masses of powerful sinew, shifting under his skin, each one trying to bulge bigger than it’s humongous, shredded brother. And as massively wide as they got, they also seemed to be stretching longer, making that colossal body even taller.

And his balls… They were the size of two large oranges hanging below his monster cock which was about 15 inches long, as thick as a beer can, and it was still stiff as an iron rod. Jesus, did that thing ever take a break. For all I knew, it had been continually hard since the kitchen. And considering what he was going through, I guess I could see it.

Now the car was high enough that I could also see his abs. Fuck, they were thrusting out of his stomach, growing, widening into eight deeply carved, solid bricks of muscle that violently heaved in and out with every monster breath he took.

Fuck, I could see his arms now, as they gripped the chassis. His forearms were evolving into enormous bulging and swelling masses of ripped cords and tendons just popping with power. His biceps were massive globes of vein covered sinew with peaks alone that put my entire bicep to shame.

His pecs erupted to the size of china balls, huge and ribbed with thick muscle fibers and his gargantuan lats spread out behind him, like a kind of thick muscle cape.

Slowly his ridiculously gigantic arms straightened as he completed a military press with my car. I heard the sound of crunching wood and metal as the top of my car collided with the garage rafters. Fuck.

“This is fucking it! This is what I’ve always wanted!” shouted Bobby.

I gulped. The fucking size of him… he was so fucking massive. Was this really the skinny kid next door? His bulk was just so overwhelming, so much fucking muscle over every bulging inch of him. I was terrified. Bobby was a mountain of unstoppable massive, heaving muscles, he must have more strength in one of his fingers than I had in my entire body. I got faint just looking at him. He was about seven and a half feet tall now, and more than five feet wide at the shoulders, with huge thick mountainous traps dwarfing his fire plug neck. He had gigantic, satiated wrecking ball delts supporting enormous, veined wrapped upper arms that resembled several giant muscle globes, all pushed together and bulging out where ever they could find room. His forearms were a huge conglomeration of thick woven cords, big around as my waste. His chest was two massive orbs of sinew, hard, solid and ripped.

His abs were eight concrete slabs of muscle leading down to his fire hose cock and his grapefruit balls. And his legs, crap, his thighs were so big around, I doubted I could wrap my arms around one of them, and I could see each and every gigantic leg muscle bulge and ripple under his skin as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“How ‘bout now, Mr. Philips?” he boomed. “Am I big enough now?”

I couldn’t say anything, not a thing.

“I feel amazing,” he cried, “so fucking strong. I bet I could… Let me see…”

He got this giant grin on his giant face and suddenly I began to hear creaking metal again. I heard a loud pop from my car and then another. A bolt dropped out of it and bounced off the floor.

“Yes!” he cried “Yes!” Then my car frame started to warp.

Jesus, he was crushing my car! With his bare hands, he was crushing my car.

Then bolts and rivets and engine parts started cascading down in a metallic rain as he continued to compact my car with just the force in his megalithic arms.

“Look at me!” He cried. “Look how fucking massive I am now. Look at what I can do!”

Fuck, I was screwed. I couldn’t get away and nothing could stop this kid, nothing. When he was done playing with my car, he would come for me. I had only once chance. I had to hide.

I raced for the door and no sooner was I through it then I heard the tremendous crash of metal and glass as Bobby dropped my car.

“Come back here, Mr. Philips!” he shouted.

I was half way up the stairs when I heard him thunder back into the house, right on my tail. I could hear my clock chiming just as I reached the top step.

“Fuck!” I heard Bobby shout. “11 o’clock already?”

I checked my watch. Damn, it was. An hour, I only had to avoid him for an hour. Then it would be midnight and this nightmare would end. He would go back to being wimpy Bobby Kilpecki and I could handle him with one arm.

But first, I had to get through that hour.

I raced through my bedroom door and slammed it behind me. Christ! What was I thinking? Not only was the bedroom the obvious place for me to hide, but a door slam was just as good as shouting, “Here I am.”

I could hear him approaching. The stairs creaked and the house shook with each giant step Bobby took. There was a second of silence while I held my breath and then a tremendous CRASH as my bedroom wall exploded inward as the teenage goliath smashed his way in.

When the dust cleared, there he stood, massive chest heaving, huge bulging arms arched out at his sides. His shaggy head was actually scraping my eight foot ceiling. He brushed the plaster dust from his wrecking ball pecs and off his brick wall of a stomach and grinned.

“That was awesome! Did you see me just fucking rip through a fucking wall? I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said, “ever since I first read a comic. But I’m done messing around. It’s almost midnight and it’s time to get down to business. So, come here and let me fuck you.”

I darted around the other side of the bed. He brought his two massive fists done on it and smashed it into smithereens. Fuck.

“I said I’m done fooling around,” he roared. Jeeze, now he sounded angry—as if he wasn’t terrifying enough already. “Hold still,” he ordered. “I’m gonna try out my new massive muscle cock on your tight little ass, Mr. Philips. I promise you’ll never have felt anything like it, because there’s never been anything like it.”

He reached out with his two giant hands, wrapped them around my waist and lifted me up as easily as a kid might lift an action figure. Fuck, his huge fingers were like iron. I couldn’t even budge one of them. He lifted me up until I was eye level with him.

“Come on, give us a kiss,” he said.

I summoned every ounce of strength I had and I punched him in the right eyeball.

“Oh fuck!” he yelled dropping me and putting his hand over his eye.

I tore out of that room right through the hole he’d made in the wall. I had a flash of brilliance. I’d just had a new heating system installed for which the workman had needed access to the crawl space under the eaves. They’d built a hatchway at the back of my linen closet. If I could get to it, I could get into the walls. He’d never find me there.

“Mr. Philips, come back here!” I heard Bobby bellowing.

I made it to the closet, slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind me. Just in time. I heard Bobby’s thundering footsteps pounding down the hall rattling the walls.

“You can’t hide from me, Mr. Philips,” he called.

Oh yes I could. I just needed to get the hatch open and I’d be home free.

“Come out, Mr. Philips! Or I might forget to be gentle.”

I’d pulled the bottom linen shelf free and there it was, the hatch. Slowly I pulled it open. The hinge squeaked something fierce. I froze. My heart caught in my throat.

“I heard that, Mr. Philips,” came Bobby’s voice.

There was a second of silence followed by a house shaking crash and the sound of breaking timber and falling plaster. Phew! He must have broken through the wall into the spare room next door.

I quickly pulled the hatch all the way open and slipped inside, swinging it shut behind me. I inched forward all the way to the end of the crawl space and huddled quietly against the far wall, hardly daring to breath.

I could hear Bobby rampaging through my house, pounding through walls and tearing up the furniture trying to find me. But I kept still and quiet, realizing that I only had a little while before midnight, before he would just be plain Bobby Kilpecki again. Then I could throw him out and call the police. Oh, I couldn’t tell them everything that had happened, but I was sure there’d be more than enough evidence to support a charge of criminal vandalism.

Finally it happened. My clock must have survived because I heard it chiming. I checked my watch and sure enough it was midnight. I heard a horrible sorrowful wail erupt from Bobby, and I realized it must be over. Slowly I crawled out of the hatch, stepped out of the closet and into the hall. The place was a shambles. All my furniture had been smashed into kindling. Giant holes and been knocked into every wall. I realized it had been a minor miracle that Bobby hadn’t punched through the wall were I’d been hiding. What a mess! Thank God I was insured.

I looked around upstairs but I didn’t see Bobby anywhere. I wondered if he was still in the house, or maybe he’d just slunk on home. I came down the stairs and went right for my front door. I wanted to open it, not for any particular reason, but just to reassure myself that I could. I put my hand on the knob and pulled. Nothing. It wouldn’t budge. Why wouldn’t it budge? Wasn’t this whole thing supposed to have ended at midnight? Panic gripped me only a second before I felt the huge hand clamp around my middle. I managed to turn around and my heart just about stopped.

There he was, big as ever, no bigger. His pecs were two gigantic globes of flesh, sticking out about two feet in front of him overshadowing a range of eight massive muscle plateaus rising out of his stomach, which rippled in and out. His back spread out behind him, wider than the hood of my car and about five times as thick. And his legs were two monstrous pillars, as thick around as an oil drum, with all the massive muscle groups visibly writhing and twisting with the slightest move. And every vein, every striation of every muscle group was clearly defined beneath his bronzed skin.
His impossibly thick neck was now bent slightly over because he was too tall for my eight foot ceiling and he was so wide with heaving, bulging, massive muscles he took up half my living room.

“Trick or treat,” he said.

“B...B…Bobby,” I said.

“Whadaya think?” He grinned, looking down over those monstrous pecs at me. “Am I the fucking sexiest thing you ever saw?”

“What…what…? It’s after midnight.”

“Oh yeah,” said Bobby, “that was the trick part. I actually have until sunrise. I just said midnight in case you were, you know, reluctant. I thought it would be easier to catch you if you thought it was over. And it was.” And then he reached out and ripped my pants right off of me.

“FUCK! That hurt!”

“You think that hurt, try this.” He turned me around and slammed me face first into the wall. Jesus, the wind was knocked out of me and I think I felt the wall board buckle in front of me.

“Get ready, Mr. Philips,” said Bobby, “here comes the treat part.”

And then he entered me and I screamed. It was the most excruciating pain I’d felt in my entire life. I t felt like someone had shoved a fireplace log up my butt. I thought my pelvis was going to split apart. It was so bad, I was sure I was going to die. Then I heard Bobby roar as I felt his log spasming within me. What a sound! It was a mixture of lust, triumph and ecstasy. And it seemed to magnify my agony. It was too powerful, too much, and then I blacked out.

I remember opening my eyes groggily and staring up at Bobby, the behemoth, towering over me as I lay on the floor.

“That was great, Mr. Philips,” he said. “Thanks for having me over. The doors and windows will open now.”

“Please just go,” I managed.

“Yeah, I have to go now,” he said. “I have to give seven years of service to that old witch in payment for the spell But, I still get one night off a year,” he said. “You’ll never guess which one.”

“Halloween?”

“Yup. And I had so much fun tonight, I’m gonna come back so we can do it again next year.”

“No…” I said.

“Oh yes,” he grinned. “It’ll be just you and me every Halloween for the next seven years.”

“I’ll move,” I said.

“Move where you want,” he said. “I’ll still find you. You’ll never get away from me, Mr. Philips, never.” And then I watched him turn his mighty back to me and squeeze out my front door. I think I must have passed out then because I don’t remember anything until the next morning.

Halloween vandalism was a popular crime. And seeing as I was gay, the insurance company figured it was related and potentially controversial, so they didn’t look too closely before they paid the claim and I was able to get my house back in order relatively quickly.

The Kilpeckis reported Bobby missing. I think the official story was that he had run away. I guess he’d left them a note saying so before he’d come over to my place.

And as for me, well, I’ve taken a new job in Saskatchewan and I’m putting my house on the market. I’m covering my trail as best I can, cutting ties with all my friends, not leaving a forwarding address, but somehow I know it will do no good. Somehow I know no matter where I go, next fall when the air cools, and the autumn leaves begin to fall, the ground will shake, the doorbell will ring and my blood will freeze as I hear that deep voice utter the famous phrase that now holds an entirely new meaning for me, “Trick or treat!”


[COLOR=darkorange]HAPPY HALLOWEEN![/COLOR]

[redkage]

Yum...no better treat than a giant muscle teen! Great work Jaypat, well worth the hard work and effort you put into it!

[TemptationIV]

oh that was good, loved it

[Mass Driver]

I wasn't gonna say anything about this. The kind of mind set that this involves, gets some people excited. If some guy gets obsessive over another man and is able to rape them, even if that man got horny over them, even if during the rape the man came; IT WOULD STILL BE RAPE.
Jaypat, I really love almost all of the stuff you write. And I really hope you Keep Writing.
But this story just left me feeling cold and lonely.
When some one says no, it means no.
That kid didn't care one bit for the man. He used him just like a human condom and them split. It was only part of your storytelling that the kid didn't split him in two.
So like I said, I love almost all of your writing.

Keep Writing

MD

[Jaypat]

Originally Posted by Mass Driver

I wasn't gonna say anything about this. The kind of mind set that this involves, gets some people excited. If some guy gets obsessive over another man and is able to rape them, even if that man got horny over them, even if during the rape the man came; IT WOULD STILL BE RAPE.
Jaypat, I really love almost all of the stuff you write. And I really hope you Keep Writing.
But this story just left me feeling cold and lonely.
When some one says no, it means no.
That kid didn't care one bit for the man. He used him just like a human condom and them split. It was only part of your storytelling that the kid didn't split him in two.
So like I said, I love almost all of your writing.

Keep Writing

MD

I do not condone rape anymore than the makers of the Halloween movies condone mass murder.

This is a horror story, written for Halloween, where the bad guy wins in the end.

I was aiming for the campfire ghost story vibe not trying to write a social treatise on how we should live our lives.

You need to lighten up a little.

[arpeejay]

The muscle growth description was, as usual, out of this world! I wish I wrote so well!

xoxo

Richard

[helliot]

I really liked this story. Wonderfully written.

[hyper.trophy]

Wow. That was fantastic and incredibly hot. I think you along with AKA are probably two of my favorite MG writers. You know how to push all the right buttons, and oh so well!

[rextorres]

Great story with muscle growth and a Halloween theme mixed together! Loved it, Jaypat!

[Mdlftr]

I have to admit I did not take this story too seriously, so I didn't take offense at the non consensual acts occuring.

What DID strike me was how FUNNY this was!
"I was surprised his dick wasn't tired. It had been up for days!"
===================================
?Bobby, I?m a bachelor,? I said. ?My fridge is 90% leftovers. Help yourself.?

?Really? Thanks,? he said and made a dash for the fridge.

?Just don?t eat anything that?s green and fuzzy,? I called after him.

?Ok, I won?t?? he called back his voice already garbled by a mouth full of food.
=======================


?I?m not sure I understand what?s happening, Bobby?? I stammered. That was the understatement of the decade.
==============================


?Yeah,? he said, ?I know exactly how you felt.?

No, he didn?t. Whatever he was feeling now, I was pretty sure I?d never come close.
===========================

Good writing -- I like the narrator -- he's very FUNNY!

Happy Halloween!!

Mdlftr

[philat99]

Very enjoyable. Great Halloweenie fare!
Mike

[musqlure]

Originally Posted by Jaypat

I do not condone rape anymore than the makers of the Halloween movies condone mass murder.

This is a horror story, written for Halloween, where the bad guy wins in the end.

I was aiming for the campfire ghost story vibe not trying to write a social treatise on how we should live our lives.

You need to lighten up a little.

Jaypat,

I agree with you completely. I honestly don't get why some people on this site can't grasp the concept of fiction.

Your story was awesome, just like all your stuff. Please keep writing. I really enjoy your fiction.

[burntjello]

OMG!!!
That was the most amazing thing I have ever read in my life, including any/every novel I have ever read.
You are an amazing author, keep it up!

Also, I love how Bobby still calls the man "Mr. Phillips," because it seems as if Mr. Phillips would be the mentor, or the one in charge! And your jokes are so cleverly played into the story!!!

[Otaru_grower]

Wow. That was really the perfect combination of Halloween style horror film and muscle growth. Great job, Jaypat!

[muscleaddict564]

That kid didn't care one bit for the man. He used him just like a human condom and them split.

That was the best part! Fucking A!

[skumbum]

That was fun.

[elysiumfields]

Damaym, that story was a turn on..! Just a little once in a while i love a bit of teenage dominating aggression.. Just wished the teen relied on his own source of magic instead being indebted to a witch, then he would'nt have need to disappear for 7 years..

[muscl4life]

I really liked it, it surely takes the Halloween spirit and twists it into a really sexy way. The growth was amazing, especially because it was empowered by food, exercise and uncanny feats of strength. I took the rougher parts as part of the narration, a Halloween tail has to have some scary parts after all

I do have one question though:

?No, not like that either. I?ve got a friend whose, like, really into it. He draws chalk circles on the floor, chants, burns things, stuff like that.?

Oh man, teenage phases, the garbage they get into. Oh well, I guess it was their last chance to be kids before they had to go out into the real world. Why spoil it? ?That sounds pretty hard core,? I said.

?It is. We went to see this old lady today, she was the real thing. I mean, long scraggly white hair, bent nose, wart, the works.?

?Sounds like a candidate for Extreme Makeover,? I said, chuckling.

He laughed nervously. ?Yeah. Funny you should say that, ?cause that?s kinda the reason we went.?

?To give her a face lift and a dye job??

?No, to kinda get makeovers ourselves.?

Will we ever get to know what kind of Extreme Makeover Bobby's friend had chosen for himself?

Seriously, it was great reading, funny and sexy, dude.

Congratulations!

[Ender]

?Hey, Mr. Philips,? he said, laughing nervously. ?Trick or treat.?

?Uh, hey, Bobby,? I answered, instinctively going to yellow alert. I had nothing against Bobby. I actually liked the kid. He was 17, about 5? 9?, kind of gangly and awkward with an unruly mop of hair that was desperately trying to be fashionable. He had a winning smile and a generally positive, upbeat attitude; all in all, a good kid.

...Snip...

?You?re not schilling for candy, are you Bobby??

?Not exactly,? he said ?but since you offered?? he plucked a Reese?s cup out of the candy bowl, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. ?I?m sorry to bother you, Mr. Philips,? he continued, slightly garbled by the chocolate he was consuming, ?but, I?m locked out, my parents aren?t home and it?s getting kind of cold.?

I sighed. It didn?t look like I was going to be able to avoid this.

?Well, come on in, Bobby. We can?t have you freezing.?

He hesitated for a moment, as if coming in was a big step. Oh boy, I didn?t like where this was going already. ?Thanks, Mr. Philips,? he said, as he finally entered.

I was only five years older than him and almost asked him to call me Greg, but I actually liked the distance the mister put between us. ?So, where are your parents??

Bobby must really be a super good kid... What makes this whole piece perfect is the way Bobby refers to his neighbor as "Mr. Philips"... Through the whole thing even after having raped him... It's sort of reminds me of "The Graduate" and Ben (Dustin Hoffman) calling Mrs. Robinson, "Mrs. Robinson" even while their were having sex... At least Bobby didn't call him "Sir"
Do parents still teach their kids to act like that? Mine did but I'm only a garduted a few years after Ben...

Ender

[Jaypat]

Originally Posted by redkage

Yum...no better treat than a giant muscle teen! Great work Jaypat, well worth the hard work and effort you put into it!

Thanks very much Red. I'm gald you enjoyed the final product.

Originally Posted by TemptationIV

oh that was good, loved it

Thank you. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Originally Posted by arpeejay

The muscle growth description was, as usual, out of this world! I wish I wrote so well!

xoxo

Richard

I know this isn't your type of story, Richard, so that means a lot. Thank you. And you are wonderfully talented with your own unique style.

Originally Posted by helliot

I really liked this story. Wonderfully written.

Thank you.

Originally Posted by hyper.trophy

Wow. That was fantastic and incredibly hot. I think you along with AKA are probably two of my favorite MG writers. You know how to push all the right buttons, and oh so well!

That's, I think, becasue we all have the same buttons.

Originally Posted by rextorres

Great story with muscle growth and a Halloween theme mixed together! Loved it, Jaypat!

Thanks, Rex, that means a lot coming from another writer who generally perfers low conflict stories.

Originally Posted by Mdlftr

I have to admit I did not take this story too seriously, so I didn't take offense at the non consensual acts occuring.

What DID strike me was how FUNNY this was!
"I was surprised his dick wasn't tired. It had been up for days!"
===================================
?Bobby, I?m a bachelor,? I said. ?My fridge is 90% leftovers. Help yourself.?

?Really? Thanks,? he said and made a dash for the fridge.

?Just don?t eat anything that?s green and fuzzy,? I called after him.

?Ok, I won?t?? he called back his voice already garbled by a mouth full of food.
=======================


?I?m not sure I understand what?s happening, Bobby?? I stammered. That was the understatement of the decade.
==============================


?Yeah,? he said, ?I know exactly how you felt.?

No, he didn?t. Whatever he was feeling now, I was pretty sure I?d never come close.
===========================

Good writing -- I like the narrator -- he's very FUNNY!

Happy Halloween!!

Mdlftr

Originally Posted by philat99

Very enjoyable. Great Halloweenie fare!
Mike

Thank you. I think all the best horror stories have a certain element of comedy to them.

Originally Posted by musqlure

Jaypat,

I agree with you completely. I honestly don't get why some people on this site can't grasp the concept of fiction.

Your story was awesome, just like all your stuff. Please keep writing. I really enjoy your fiction.

Thank you for enjoying it in the spirit in which it was meant.

Originally Posted by burntjello

OMG!!!
That was the most amazing thing I have ever read in my life, including any/every novel I have ever read.
You are an amazing author, keep it up!

Also, I love how Bobby still calls the man "Mr. Phillips," because it seems as if Mr. Phillips would be the mentor, or the one in charge! And your jokes are so cleverly played into the story!!!

I'm not sure I deserve such high praise, but thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Originally Posted by Otaru_grower

Wow. That was really the perfect combination of Halloween style horror film and muscle growth. Great job, Jaypat!

That's what I was going for. I'm glad it worked.

Originally Posted by muscleaddict564

That was the best part! Fucking A!

Well, I guess we all have our favorite parts.

Originally Posted by skumbum

That was fun.

Glad you liked it.

Originally Posted by elysiumfields

Damaym, that story was a turn on..! Just a little once in a while i love a bit of teenage dominating aggression.. Just wished the teen relied on his own source of magic instead being indebted to a witch, then he would'nt have need to disappear for 7 years..

Everything has it's price. And for something that big you're going to pay a pretty high price.

Originally Posted by muscl4life

I really liked it, it surely takes the Halloween spirit and twists it into a really sexy way. The growth was amazing, especially because it was empowered by food, exercise and uncanny feats of strength. I took the rougher parts as part of the narration, a Halloween tail has to have some scary parts after all

I do have one question though:

?No, not like that either. I?ve got a friend whose, like, really into it. He draws chalk circles on the floor, chants, burns things, stuff like that.?

Oh man, teenage phases, the garbage they get into. Oh well, I guess it was their last chance to be kids before they had to go out into the real world. Why spoil it? ?That sounds pretty hard core,? I said.

?It is. We went to see this old lady today, she was the real thing. I mean, long scraggly white hair, bent nose, wart, the works.?

?Sounds like a candidate for Extreme Makeover,? I said, chuckling.

He laughed nervously. ?Yeah. Funny you should say that, ?cause that?s kinda the reason we went.?

?To give her a face lift and a dye job??

?No, to kinda get makeovers ourselves.?

Will we ever get to know what kind of Extreme Makeover Bobby's friend had chosen for himself?

Seriously, it was great reading, funny and sexy, dude.

Congratulations!

You know, I don't really know what Bobby's friend asked for. I'll have to think about it and get back to you.

Originally Posted by Ender

Bobby must really be a super good kid... What makes this whole piece perfect is the way Bobby refers to his neighbor as "Mr. Philips"... Through the whole thing even after having raped him... It's sort of reminds me of "The Graduate" and Ben (Dustin Hoffman) calling Mrs. Robinson, "Mrs. Robinson" even while their were having sex... At least Bobby didn't call him "Sir"
Do parents still teach their kids to act like that? Mine did but I'm only a garduted a few years after Ben...

Ender

That was part of the whole horror vibe: a seemingly nice, polite kid who was secretly watching his every move through windows and who eventually transformed into a raging pycho musclebound rapist.

The fact that he kept his polite tone through most of the story hints that the facade has become so much a part of him that he can't just instantly drop it. Eventually, though, he'll probably manage it.

[rextorres]

Since today's Halloween, I just felt the urge to read "Trick or Switch" by Otaru_Grower all over again.

http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/showthread.php?t=4680

[Aaron C]

Jay Pat, that was an awesome story man! I loved the muscle, growth and power.

[Kymuscleboy]

That was definitely a Halloween treat! The combination of muscle and domination was very hot. I loved that you had Bobby show off some amazing strength feats as well. That makes the muscle growth even hotter when you can see what that muscle can do. Finally, I loved the twist of lying to the Mr. Phillips about the time the spell ended. That was brilliant!

[KalaNemi]

While i do understand that domination can be hot (i think so as well) there are boundaries you shoul not cross. For me it would be ok if the teen was a giant and the adult willfully submitted to him eventually once he reached a certain size. Then he brags about how powerful and huge he is while doing the guy. But the fact is when you have this guy running for his life from a monster who eventually wins in the end, it will disturb many people. Rape is rape, there is no way around it. It seems very twisted to me that one would even write a story with this in mind even for Halloween. The scaring for this holiday is meant for fun and excitement, not this morbid concept. If the kid's size was truely massive, like above 20ft or something, i might have overlooked the whole rape thing, maybe not even describe it as rape. But no, this is just bad taste. I am sure the other stories you have written are wonderful, really i do. I just don't agree with this one.

[Adam]

Originally Posted by KalaNemi

While i do understand that domination can be hot (i think so as well) there are boundaries you shoul not cross. For me it would be ok if the teen was a giant and the adult willfully submitted to him eventually once he reached a certain size. Then he brags about how powerful and huge he is while doing the guy. But the fact is when you have this guy running for his life from a monster who eventually wins in the end, it will disturb many people. Rape is rape, there is no way around it. It seems very twisted to me that one would even write a story with this in mind even for Halloween. The scaring for this holiday is meant for fun and excitement, not this morbid concept. If the kid's size was truely massive, like above 20ft or something, i might have overlooked the whole rape thing, maybe not even describe it as rape. But no, this is just bad taste. I am sure the other stories you have written are wonderful, really i do. I just don't agree with this one.

Wow, where to begin? First, how incredibly arrogant of you to state that there are boundaries that people should not cross in stories, and that apparently YOU are the one who determines the limits of those boundaries! Who appointed you chief censor again?

It's very twisted that one would write a story like this even for Halloween? And the scaring of Halloween is meant for fun and excitement, not this morbid concept? Really! So I presume you were out picketing Saw VI? Since the scaring of Halloween is not meant for morbid concepts? Oh, and you were also busy picketing Halloween II, right? You must be very busy, out seeking to impose your twisted vision of what Halloween is on everyone who disagrees! Or do you skip taking on big budget movies and simply try to insult and bully authors who are generous enough to offer their work for free?

Bad taste is in the eye of the beholder. To criticize a story for misspelling, lack of characterization, and so forth is one thing. To criticize a story's theme is quite another. Tell me, what do you and those like you possibly hope to gain from that? Do you want the author to apologize for having written the story he wanted to because YOU didn't like the theme? Do you want to try to discourage the author from ever posting here again? Or is your ego just so huge that you feel you must inform the author of your petty disapproval of his theme, because your opinion is just THAT important?

The tyrants of taste on this board really disgust me. I dislike many of the sickeningly sweet romantic tales here, but I would never dream of criticizing them to the author on that basis. If only you sanctimonous would-be censors could extend the same consideration and courtesy to the authors of domination stories!

[Mass Driver]

I was gonna say the same thing I said before, but ya know, Screw it!!
This is the place where people can write what ever they want to and get feedback from people who feel like they can say what they feel. There is no heavy censorship or real restrictions on the content of the story, or for that matter, on the commentary.

I gave my opinion on how I felt about the story, and Jaypat responded with his own opinion on what I said.
I'm sitting here shaking my head and chuckling.
That is the important part. It's all opinion. No strict guidelines. No way to know who really reads these things. We just get the numbers of readers and those people who bother to comment. And that's all it is. A comment.
Nothing to get to heavy about. I did take Jaypat's reply to heart.
So much so that I didn't feel like I ever wanted to make another comment here again.
And that would have been wrong.
First time I've used that word here.
Wrong.
You want comments and opinions? Then you read them after your story's chapter ends and see what people think. Good and Bad responses. People loved it or people hated it. And everything in between.
And it's all opinion.

For a writer, it helps to see if your getting through to your audience/readers.
And damn if I don't just now remember that Jaypat wrote "The Hike".
That was brilliant. I loved it. One or two people in the story did get torn apart, but Hey. All part of the story. Still one that I'll go back and read again. I'm weird like that. That story hit my buttons and I didn't think twice about the homicide involved.

This one hit me strange and I didn't like it. So Sue Me.
But the real important thing is that there is not a fashion police out there.
Or that any one opinion could be responsible for stopping a writer from posting.
Because that would be wrong, too.
No writer of Jaypat's calibre should ever be kept from writing and being read.
And that is also, just my opinion. But a lot of people share it. (Thank God)

We who use this site are damn lucky.
So I'd just like to remind Adam (who I don't know from Adam) that as a member, I can criticize/comment/reply and remark on any and every part of a story posted on this site, just as every other member can. Whether my feedback is Gold or Gnorscht.
You mentioning Tyrants puts me in mind of those who wish to be. I certainly haven't read any comment that makes me feel like they have a right to shut me down when I make a comment of my own. Your mentioning "Sickeningly Sweet Romantic Tales" actually turns out to be a comment in itself. And sort of reminds me that most readers don't feel like making any comment at all, unless sufficiently motivated to do so.
In my opinion, you should have made a few replies to those stories and maybe get more of what you like. Couldn't hurt.

If you have an imagination and can craft up stories, you are unique. Not one of a kind, but your stories probably are. And to have the balls to put it out for people to see, is brave and also a test of your fortitude. Because the lack of feedback is worse than bad feedback.

But if you have something to say....
Then you have to...
Keep Writing.

MD

P.S. I'm still gonna read your stories, Jaypat. And I'll probably end up giving one or two heavy comments. At least its feedback.

redroger11

[KalaNemi]

Well a truely charged review to say the least(the Adam one). I would say someone has issues with their anger. I meant absolutely no disrespect to Jaypat(may or may not have spelled the name right). I really enjoy the other stories he has written. Looking back at my review it seemed I was sounding very Holier-than-thou ish. It is just that I don't feel comfortable reading these kinds of stories that involve so much fear from one of the characters. Not exactly my cup of tea, but to those out there who enjoy this then drink up(tea pun). Though I will say I did get excited through the whole chase scene in the house, very thrilling! Looking back at the story, the ending does not seem so bad. I apologize to Jaypat if I insulted you in anyway. I will not however, suffer ignorant fools who so heavily berate others opinions. The only one you hurt is yourself, as furture comments you make will be colored by your past actions. It is simply not a good practice to follow.

To those who read this, I thank you.

Please ignore spelling and grammer mistakes as I simply have not the patience nor the attention span to fix them.

[Azathoth]

First comment ever here, so feel free to be pleased at earning it.

Those unhappy with the rape have critiqued it by saying that it's not made OK by the narrator getting into it, and thus it shouldn't have happened. While I completely agree that the narrator being cool with his own rape was problematic story-wise, I find it so for exactly the opposite reason.

This is a horror story: Bad guy wins, evil triumphs, the innocent are violated, injustice rules. Strong work!

So what the hell is up with the narrator liking it? Almost but not actually having his pelvis broken? Looking fondly forward to future annual monstersex? Totally killed the horror right there.

No means no. Rape is rape. So no half-ass "it's not so bad once you get used to it" horse hockey. Agony and horror the whole way. Broken bones. Minced organs. Broken and wrecked and only still alive because of the foul power of the magic cum. And dreading each annual Halloween visit with growing horror, because the annual rape is what renews the spell, this year and every year. Forever.

No matter where he runs, or how he hides, anywhere in the world, his musclemoster hunts him down and takes him and breaks him and resurrects him for even more torture.

THAT'S an evil horror story.

(Other than that wuss-out at the end, though, this was an amazing work of fiction. Very strong work!)

[giantw]

Jaypat. Excellent story. I loved the feats of strength as well as the powerful, dominant teen.

Adam, superb response to the morality police.

Now, MassDriver / Redroger:

On May 2, 2008 you criticized a story by Gideon called, "The Boy Kevin - Part 1" saying the following:

"I was going to make a few comments, but I would be wasting my time. Just think about a few real words in your own fantasy world. [COLOR=#ff0000]RAPE[/COLOR]. Battery. the word that comes after Assault. the one where when you hit some body you go to jail. These stories would work so much better if they had a touch of the real world in them.
Sorry if this seems like I'm being an asshole, but these kind of stories where the little guy gets insulted or hurt, and turns around and enjoys it always seems like a way for the big guy to justify his evil rude behavior.

enough from me. I won't be commenting again about anything like this. I'll just move on, hoping the author tries something else."

Now I took you to task for what I felt was an unwarranted attack based on the content of a fictional story, which you mistook as an approbation of rape. It appears you have done this again. Adam, I think, already took you to school, so I just have some observations based on the repetitive nature of your criticism:

1) You still start off your negative comments with "I was gonna say something", before you go ahead and say whatever it is you were going to say anyway. It's like you are warming up or clearing your throat. I thought that was kind of funny.

2) You're really hung up on rape. OK, I get it. You don't like rape. You don't like anything that comes close to rape. I understand. I hate chocolate ice cream. I don't even like bits of chocolate in my ice cream. But I simply stay away from those flavors that upset me. If I taste chocolate I stop eating. If you smell rape, why don't you stop reading?

3) You promised never to comment on anything like this again in 2008, and yet you're back again to whine, I am sorry, COMMENT some more. Give it a rest man.

[beeflover2001]

While i do understand that domination can be hot (i think so as well) there are boundaries you shoul[d] not cross.

You should stay away from muscle snuff fiction, then.

Great story, Jaypat. Fantastic muscle growth and super strength descriptions, really liked the teenage domination angle.

I'm really kind of surprised at the agony over the rape. "No means no" is certainly true -- in real life. A short story on a Web site devoted to erotica about super muscle growth isn't exactly real life. "Romantic" rape has been a staple of fiction for decades. In "Gone With the Wind," Scarlett is raped by Rhett, even though they're married, and she gets pregnant. A whole genre of "romance" novels is described as "bodice rippers" -- where the hero basically rapes the heroine, but then they go on to live happily ever after.

It's erotic fiction. If it doesn't get you off, that's fine, but I don't think it requires agonizing over the author's choice.

[Jaypat]

Originally Posted by Azathoth

First comment ever here, so feel free to be pleased at earning it.

Those unhappy with the rape have critiqued it by saying that it's not made OK by the narrator getting into it, and thus it shouldn't have happened. While I completely agree that the narrator being cool with his own rape was problematic story-wise, I find it so for exactly the opposite reason.

This is a horror story: Bad guy wins, evil triumphs, the innocent are violated, injustice rules. Strong work!

So what the hell is up with the narrator liking it? Almost but not actually having his pelvis broken? Looking fondly forward to future annual monstersex? Totally killed the horror right there.

No means no. Rape is rape. So no half-ass "it's not so bad once you get used to it" horse hockey. Agony and horror the whole way. Broken bones. Minced organs. Broken and wrecked and only still alive because of the foul power of the magic cum. And dreading each annual Halloween visit with growing horror, because the annual rape is what renews the spell, this year and every year. Forever.

No matter where he runs, or how he hides, anywhere in the world, his musclemoster hunts him down and takes him and breaks him and resurrects him for even more torture.

THAT'S an evil horror story.

(Other than that wuss-out at the end, though, this was an amazing work of fiction. Very strong work!)

Holy crap, I did completly wimp out. Where were you when I was writing this? That would have been a MUCH better ending. I may actually go back in and rewrite!

[COLOR=red]--and now it is rewriten and it works sooooo much better. Thank you Azathoth![/COLOR]

[KalaNemi]

I totally love it. Its evil, wicked, not to mention terrifying. No matter where you run, where you go, I will find you. It is futile to resist, accept the inevitability of your doomed fate. The futility of his resistance is so deliciously evil, I LOVE IT! MWAHAHAHAHAHA! I would suggest building up the terror. The fact that there is no escape, whatever is going to happen EVERY Halloween will happen, TERROR grips him as he realizes his life will be forever changed. The lingering terror after that fateful night. It grows and spreads through his body, seeping through every pore on his skin. The fear builds, crushing, suffocating, paralyzing him as the dreaded day arrives. The nightmare will never end, it will remain, FOREVER... How long can you endure your remaining days? Will you fight the inevitable? How long will you last the pain, the fear, the torment? Will you beg for death, to end it all, to stop the vicious cycle? Or will it end on that black night, through the pain and the agony of your broken body, as the life slowly leaves your corpse? Gives me chills just writing it.

MWAHAHAHAHAHA! I shall say it again, so deliciously EVIL!

[muscleaddict564]

Originally Posted by KalaNemi

While i do understand that domination can be hot (i think so as well) there are boundaries you shoul not cross. For me it would be ok if the teen was a giant and the adult willfully submitted to him eventually once he reached a certain size. Then he brags about how powerful and huge he is while doing the guy. But the fact is when you have this guy running for his life from a monster who eventually wins in the end, it will disturb many people. Rape is rape, there is no way around it. It seems very twisted to me that one would even write a story with this in mind even for Halloween. The scaring for this holiday is meant for fun and excitement, not this morbid concept. If the kid's size was truely massive, like above 20ft or something, i might have overlooked the whole rape thing, maybe not even describe it as rape. But no, this is just bad taste. I am sure the other stories you have written are wonderful, really i do. I just don't agree with this one.

Okay, honestly, I was hoping people like you wouldn't invade this thread, but here we are. Look, how many times do you hear about a teenager getting ?BER huge and raping a muscular, grown man. Never, because it hardly ever happens. Do you HONESTLY think that ANY of us would actually jeer with joy if we witnessed or heard about a man getting raped? Of course not. We'd probably fuck up the guy who did it. And yes, there is a way around it. Literature has existed since the beginning of time. Can you give me any reasons as to why? I'll assume not, considering you're bitching about a fictional story. The reason literature is still around today is because it's arguably the easiest way, if you can do it right, to escape reality. To lose yourself. To live out your fantasies. There is no human being alive that doesn't have imagination; it's just some of us can harnass it better than others. What would the point of him being super tall be? If the kid is stronger than the man, there's no way the man's going to overpower him, regardless of height. Likewise, height =/= strength. If you don't agree with it, then DON'T READ IT! For fuck's sake! If I saw a story about a gigantic ape murdering and assraping an all boy's boarding school, I wouldn't bitch; I just wouldn't read it. I dunno about you, but I'm gay, and I EMBRACE new ideas, and consider myself open-minded; you should try it sometime. I also dislike boundaries, ESPECIALLY when it concerns something like FICTION.

So I'd just like to remind Adam (who I don't know from Adam) that as a member, I can criticize/comment/reply and remark on any and every part of a story posted on this site, just as every other member can. Whether my feedback is Gold or Gnorscht.

Here's where I'd like to point out the difference between CRITICISM, and CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM. The author has written stories that contain content that KalaNemi would consider "beyond what's right" blahblah, and here he is writing such stories now. SO, what makes him think that Jaypat would suddenly stop writing these stories just because he thinks that it's sickening?

[KalaNemi]

Pity that we keep digging this up all the time. Just let it drop. I don't want it to escalate into some kind of war. I no longer have any issues with the story. It is very well written, mucher better than many papers and stories I have read (some made me want to cry). I felt the thrill of chase scene, the narrow escapes, and the illusion of success were all very thrilling right up to the end. I am not looking to make enemies here, yet I find it sad that we keep dredging this subject up. Not to mention the amount of effort put into berating me and not commenting on the story. Some people need to lighten up a little. Then again it is these experiences, in real life or in cyberspace that change people on the inside. While I understand that the first comment I wrote was highly negative, I do not regret writting it. It is past, I have changed as a result from it, please just leave it be.

[muscleaddict564]

"We" didn't 'dredge' anything up. You made the comment.

[beeflover2001]

I like the revision, but I also liked the original ending.

Will you beg for death, to end it all, to stop the vicious cycle? Or will it end on that black night, through the pain and the agony of your broken body, as the life slowly leaves your corpse?

So you have issues with fictional rape, but none about fictional being fucked to death, leaving a battered and broken corpse? So you do get off on muscle snuff then.

[redkage]

Okay, enough bickering everyone. Although people are free to comment on the story, let's not turn Jaypat's story thread into another flame war. If you have something to say to one another, do it through private messages. Jaypat worked hard on this story, and I'd rather not see it degraded from people arguing the details of this story.

[skumbum]

Due to all the bumps, I read it again and it's still a great story. Complex, well-written, and hot.

[nnnrg]

For me it stopped being hot the minute the admiring kid turned into a crazy stalker, but that's because I've known crazy stalkers, and they kill any hint of "hot".

Now I have to say three positive things, and gladly, there are three positive things to say.
First, it's always a pleasure to read fiction that's literate, like this one. It's written in clear, good expository style, that has no glaring misspellings, no grammar problems (and in fact, which bends grammar in ways that make the storytelling work better.)
Second, it does work quite well as "horror" which is its selected genre, though I'd request a note in the foreward that it contains violence and non-consensual sex.
Third, the story was creative and a bit unusual in its setup, without falling completely into the standard tropes, which is nice to find.

For me the horror would be in him enjoying it just as much, physically - something in the witch's spell probably - and NOT being damaged, not being able to resist, not even being able to get away from the guy, but simultaneously wanting it and dreading that it would happen because of the rape factor. The fear and refusal being part of the magical sacrifice that makes it work to lock in the kid's huge size and strength.

The horror might even be in the kid explaining that he doesn't really WANT to do this, but that the spell overrides his free will just as much as that of his victim.

And in my favorite twist of course, our victim would benefit too - getting stronger, himself, staying young, becoming more attractive, muscular and virile, but still not being anywhere near able to fight off the kid.

And then what happens at the end of the seven year service? Does the kid REALLY get freed from the curse? Is he just a stalker with a magical blessing, or was he a stupid kid who volunteered to be possessed?

As an example of the kind of story with the kind of "forced but ends up accepting it" alternative would be the Headshop series, which has its own kind of authoritarian stalkerish monsters, but the protagonist ends up making peace with it in some fashion simply because he cannot do otherwise.

And NO, this isn't a request for a follow-up, just grist for the storymill.

[Maverick0095875]

ok guys the view is a television show so lets keep the bickering out of the stories