The Afflicted

[built_spill]

NOTE: Thought I'd try this as an ongoing story, so have at it.

It was about 1:30 am, when I drove up to the gate of the old scrap yard. The directions were pretty much spot-on and I only got lost a few times. The place looked abandoned - nobody had used this place in years. I put the rental car in park and got out. A hundred feet or so down from the gravel path, there was a break in the fence, just like my contact had said.

This had been kind of a weird setup. We'd communicated only via e-mail and he'd sent me a couple of photos of himself in his changed form, but he wanted his identity to stay stictly under wraps. "Family problems," he had said. Usually, that sort of thing sets off warning bells, but I don't know. I had kind of a good vibe. Besides, he was a beginner and I hadn't had to show someone the ropes in a couple of years.

I got to the makeshift gate and let myself through. The place was definitely one of my creepier spots for a meetup. No lights, only the 3/4 moon overhead. I let my eyes adjust a bit, as I looked around for any sign of life.

"Hello, Mark?," I called, knowing full well that probably wasn't his real name. "Anyone there?"

I heard a shuffling and a flashlight switched on from behind a stack of late-model cars which had been crushed flat sometime during the Reagan administration. The light swept around, right into my eyes, blinding me for a second. I covered my face with my arm.

"Ah, geez, turn that off," I snapped. "Are you Mark?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," the voice at the end of the beam stammered, as he

shut off the light.

He approached me tentatively.

"So, uh, you're the guy from the newsgroup, right? The one with the,

uh, well, who, um..."

"Yeah, that's me. Alan."

I put my hand out for the shaking. He did likewise, and I noticed his hands were clammy, almost quivering. He was very nervous. Young, too. It was hard to make out exact details, but even in my non-muscled form I had a good five inches and forty pounds on him. He wore jeans and a dark windbreaker. The hornrimmed glasses didn't help him look any more mature, either.

He looked me up and down. "You don't look so big," he said.

"Well, no, of course not. That doesn't come until later.

His eyes opened wide. "Listen, this was a bad idea. I should go. I'm sorry for wasting your time," he said as he started to walk away.

"What? No, I was in town for business, anyway. Besides, if those photos you sent me were real, then we have a great deal in common. Let me ask you first, though, how old are you, anyway?"

"Oh, uh, twenty."

I just stared at him. He looked down at his shoes.

"Okay, okay. Sixteen."

That kind of stung inside. The poor kid. I mean, it was hard enough dealing with this when it happened to me in my mid twenties. But to be in high school...

"Did it just happen?"

He looked back up at me. "Yeah. A couple of months ago."

"Want to tell me how? I'm guessing you haven't really been able to tell anyone yet." I sat down on the hood of an old Buick.

The look of relief on his face said volumes.

"Okay, I'm not the biggest guy around. I've never exactly been too popular, either. I get picked on a lot. Well, my dad, he works for this research lab that makes supplements for athletes. Last year, he started working on this contract job for the government, secret-type stuff. I'd sneal into his home lab to check out the stuff he'd been bringing home to work on. It was more powerful than what he'd been making for them."

"What was it?"

"This supplement that temporarily boosts stamina, strength that kind of thing."

"Wow. Did it work?"

"Yeah, I tried it a couple of times. It was so cool. There was this rush... I was finally big enough, but it would always go away by morning. I- I, well, I thought I could improve it, make it last longer. I understood my dad's notes and everything. So I stashed some away and worked on it in secret for a few weeks. Finally, I got it to the point where I could test it. That's um, that's when it happened."

"Your first change?"

"I didn't know what would happen. Luckily, my parents were gone for the weekend and I tried it on a Friday night. Or else, well, I don't know."

"Have they found out?"

"What? No! Oh god no! I have to sneak out of the house late at night when I feel it... well, when I have to, um, change."

"Trust me, I know what that's like. It isn't easy."

"No, no it isn't."

"So, your first time, what was it like?"

He finally came over and sat next to me.

"I guess I don't remember all of it. I injected the mixture into my thigh. It burned going in. I felt this rush, like it usually did, but this time, something was wrong. I couldn't stop hyperventilating. Everything felt tight, I thought I was having a seizure or heart attack or something. I couldn't move...I-I came close to passing out, my whole body stiffened then it went black. I woke up and it was light outside, I'd been out for a few hours. I got up and everything felt weird. I tried to get up, but my legs were really unsteady. Then I looked down and, um, well, I'd gotten bigger. And naked."

"How big?"

"Well, that first time, I was about seven feet tall, I didn't weigh myself or take any measurements, I was too freaked out. I couldn't even enjoy it. It didnt' go down after the usual eight hours. I thought it was permanent, I didn't know what to do. Then, about six o'clock on Saturday, I passed out again. When I came to, I was back to normal."

"And that was the only time?"

"No. A couple of hours later, I was taking a shower, trying to relax, when I felt the tightness again, just not as bad this time. Then everything tightened up. I could see my whole body just flexing, shaking all over. Then the pains started and the change happened again. It was pretty quick, only took about five minutes of me grunting and screaming."

"And?"

"Well, I grew again. I wasn't as big this time, only 6'5", 278 lbs."

"Not bad."

"Thanks," he blushed a bit. "This time, it followed the usual time table. After about six hours, I shrank back down. The weird thing was

it changed me, somehow. Now I don't need the formula to change, it just happens, like it's stuck in my body. So, um, a couple nights a month I just change."

"You control it?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Trust me, you're luckier than most."

"Like tonight, I was going to. I mean, if you wanted to do this. If

you wanted to help me. It's just hard sometimes." He put his head in his crossed arms.

"No one else knows at all, then?" He shook his head. I stood up and

looked at my watch. "Well, we'd better get started."

Mark looked up. "Really, you don't mind?"

I took off my jacket and my t-shirt. "No. I know what this feels like.

Until I found a few others, I felt like some kind of freak, completely

alone in the world. No one should have to go through that. You've entered an odd little family, kid- there's no reason to feel strange about it."

He stood up, looked like he was near tears. "Hey," I said. "It's no big deal. If you went on like this and got all angsty and tore apart this whole town, I'd feel like a huge jerk. We don't want that, do we?"

That brought the first smile to his face all night. "Okay, cool," he said.

"Alright," I said, as I took off my pants. "So what do you usually do? What's your routine?"

He seemed a bit uneasy, what with me standing there naked and all.

"Does this make you uncomfortable?"

"Yeah, kind of, but-"

"But after the change, it doesn't bother you, right?" He nodded.

"Yeah, seems to usually work that way. You want me to go over there

for my growth?" I pointed to a stack of crushed Chevys.

His face screwed up.

"No. No, right here's fine." He started stripping down, I could see he was a really skinny kid, no wonder he went a bit far in trying to

cheat nature.

"So, you always come here?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, sometimes, I just stay at home. My room's above the garage. I have weights. But sometimes, I need to sneak out, because I just..."

"Need more of a challenge?"

"Yeah. And some privacy."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. I know what you mean. Well, that's normal, too."

We both stood there, facing each other. He with his arms crossed,

covering as much as possible. Me, I was used to this and just getting a bit impatient for what was building up inside me.

He coughed. "Ummm... about that. We're not-"

"What? No. No, that'd be a bit weird." I laughed a bit, realizing the situation was already way the hell on the left of the weird scale.

"Yeah, so, who should go first?" He looked at me for a second. That was my cue.

"Okay, it's me then. Here goes."

I closed my eyes and concentrated, looking for it inside of me. That itch. The feeling in the pit of my stomach. I always likened it to the

first hill of a roller coaster, but a hundred times better. Almost.... got... it... there. My head snapped forward, my eyes open.

"Yes," I whispered. I smiled over at him and felt it take over. There was the familiar warmth, spreading all over...

[Corwin]

yes, the warmth... It flows through me. Hotter... a flame. Fire. My body burns, but is not consumed. Instead, I consume the fire. I use it to feed me. Feed my power.

I feel my legs expand. I need to take a step to the side. They need room. My arms are pushed away from my body. Hotter! Heat is size. Heat is strength.

I'm taller now. I know that. Need more. A forest fire. Magma fuelling a geyser. I feel the tightness around my neck as my traps grow larger. My neck thickens. My body is heavier, larger. It doesn't matter. I feel the heat, concentrate on it. The heat feeds me. It makes me strong.

I need to take another step. I'm bigger, and the muscles need room to expand. My stomach feels tight. Hard. My chest is heavy. Lats pushing at the sides. I am a sun, blue and cool yet hot. The heat makes me big. I want to be big.

Show the kid...

I am white now, then yellow... Hotter. Bigger. Stronger. I am a giant, a red giant.

... not wierd. It's just us.

I am a supernova. super hot, exploding with power. I can barely control it.

I let go of the feeling. Find the here and now. No heat, just the now. I let the roller coaster pull into the station.

I've maxed out. I look down on him. I must be 7 foot 3. Probably around 575, all muscle. I've done it before. I can't see my feet over my pecs. My lats are thick and wide, forming a perfect V. I look at my arms -- gotta be about 30 inches cold. Big. Damn strong too.

The kid is staring at me. His eyes are wide, like a deer in headlights or a child in a candystore. He's either in awe or he wants it, or both.

"Is that what it looks like?" he says, disbelieving. "Wow! I mean, I thought it would be like the Hulk or something. It was, but it wasn't. It was like you were in control."

"I was," I tell him. "I've learned."

"What did it feel like for you? You looked so intent. Man, you're huge. I've never gotten that big! Flex your arm, will you? I mean..." It was a stream of thought driven by emotion.

"Sure," I say. I have the power now. I love feeling this way. I love showing it off. My arm is thick and vascular. I raise it so it is horizontal with the ground. My pec stretches, but it has so much dense muscle it still forms a shelf above my abs. I twist my forearm, causing the bicep to flex and curl. Slowly, methodically, I bend the elbow, twisting my wrist, pointing my fingers. I watch his face turn from awe to lust. He wants this. "Go ahead, touch it. But remember, I expect you to return the favor."

Tentatively, he lifts his hand. I twist, lowering my arm to him, flexing my back at the same time. I love putting on the show. His touch is light at first. Then he presses harder. I don't move. Finally, he squeezes. I can barely feel it. His fingers can't dent this hard muscle.

"I think it is your turn," I say. He steps back.

"O.K., but..." he looks at me. I see the fear in his eyes. The loathing. He hates himself. I know I shouldn't, but I step forward. I put my arms around him. I hug him, hold him.

"It's OK. It's you. It's us. Don't be afraid. Just do it. For me..." Was it too much, I don't know. I felt him hug me back. I stepped away.

I saw him look at me. Take me in. There was a determination in his eyes, almost like he was challenging me. He stood upright, closed his eyes. A look of calm came over him.

It was different for him that for me. His body went stiff. His bones began to length, get taller. He looked cold, like he was shivvering. The shivver became a spasm, then a seizure. His body contorted, like mice running under the skin. As they moved, they left a trail of larger muscle. He got a swimmer's chest, slight definition on the arms, a little thicker legs. But it didn't stop. Another spasm, more growth. Did it hurt him, I wonder?

Now he has the body of a weight lifter. His abs are visible, a nice six pack. He's gotta be over six feet, and growing. His traps spring up, his back thickens and widens. He spreads his legs, too much muscle and not enough room.

He looks like a bodybuilder now -- light heavy, maybe. He's taller too. What did he say, six-five was his max? Looks more like six-six now, and growing. His muscles are getting thicker now. He's gotta be close to 400 pounds. His pecs are hemispheres -- big, round, powerful. The seizures cause him to flex involuntarily. He's becoming ripped. Tight. Vascular too. His forearms make Popeye look small.

I'm not looking down on him now. The kid is still growing. There's a look of determination on his face. Is he forcing the growth? Challenging me? Showing me what he's got? He's getting bigger too. His arms are thick, legs ripped. His abs are rocks. His lats are wings -- looks like he could fly if he wanted, or at least glide on the wind.

He's not stopping. He's taller than me now. I get scared. Can he control it? Can I control him? Those pecs, so thick and ripped. Every part of him is huge. His arms are massive -- gotta be bigger than mine. I stare in awe as finally he stops.

He looks down on me. He sneers. "Man, what a rush. Never been that good before. Guess I never tried." He looks down at himself. He places his hands on his chest. He tries to cross his arms, finds he can't. Too much muscle. He lifts one of his pecs, feels its weight. He smiles. His hand moves to his abs. Ten distinct rocks, steel hard. He finds his cock. Damn! It's long and thick. He cups it in his hand; strokes it; feels its weight and thickness. It responds to his touch, so he lets go, choosing to feel the hardness of his legs.

He looks at me. Steps closers. Steps? No, he lumbers closer. "Flex," he orders. He's confident now. He's not the scared kid anymore. He's something else.

I flex my arm. He does the same. He's bigger. His tris hang lower, and the bis peak higher. I feel my mouth water, wanting to experience his power. He doesn't ask permission this time. He places his hand on my bi. It's a firm grip. He squeezes, forearm flexing. His grip is crushing.

"Heh," he chuckles. "You try." It was a command, not a request. I grab his arm and squeeze. Hard. Harder. Nothing. It's too dense, too powerful. He keeps grinning.

"Wierd, huh?" he says.

[Corwin]

"I thought you said you grew to six five?"

Mark shrugged. "Guess I never really tried." He stepped back, looking me over. "Can you get bigger than that?"

"Not much. Maybe a little."

He frowns. "Too bad. Thought we could have some fun, but you look a bit small."

His words stabbed at me. How dare this kid? Look at all this muscle I got. "Don't worry about me," I snarl. "I can keep up."

He chuckles. "Couldn't even dent my arm. I need a challenge." He turns, begins to walk into the yard.

I'm getting mad now. "Hey!" Mark stops. "You want a challenge. You got one. Name it."

He walks back, invading my space, looking down on me. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Name it," I snarl, "or I will."

There is something about his eyes. Mark is no longer the scared kid. He is a wild animal now, on the prowl. He' hunting. He needs a kill. "Ab punches," he says. "Winner names the next challenge."

I take a step back. I flex my abs. Eight cinderblocks separated by valleys a good 5 inches deep. I rub my hand over them. "Go first." I look at him, anger flaring from my eyes, "and don't hold back. I won't, and I'll know."

Mark's torso expands in anticipation. He slams a fist into his palm. It sounds like thunder. I see him pull back. His arm is like lightning, slamming into my impenitrable abs. The crash is deafening.

The force is enough to bring down a small building, but not my muscle. My abs hold. There is a red mark on the skin where his fist hit. Mark is rubbing his knuckles. They must smart.

"My turn," I announce. Mark puts his hands on his hips. He flexes his abs. They're ripped, but not as thick as mine. I pull back and let loose with all I've got. The crack is louder than when Mark hit me. I feel his abs give a little, but they hold off the assault.

"Pretty good Alan," Mark says, "for a little guy. My turn again."

I barely have time to flex before the punch hits. The kid is smart. He hits in the same place as before, trying to tenderize the muscle. It smarts, but not enough to affect me. Instead, I laugh. "Gotta try harder than that, like this."

I put both arms together and swing. Like me, he barely has time to flex into steely hardness. Unlike me, he fails to withstand the assault. The strength in my two mighty arms crashes into his tight stomach like a wrecking ball. I feel his strong muscle resist, then fail as my fists rip into him. He doubles over. First there is the crack of the contact, then the "umph" of his lungs suddenly and unexpectedly expelling air.

I step back, let Mark recover. He coughs, then straightens up. Now he's mad. "That won't happen again." There is an edge to his voice. "Name it."

I need to decide on my strategy. I think about the standards. Forcing arms down or arm wrestling scares me. His guns are big and strong, I know that already. He underestimated my abs, that was his mistake. I won't make the same. I look at him, look around. The stacks of cars give me an idea.

"Weight lifting," I say. I point to the two stacks. "First person to move a stack to the other side wins."

He looks at me, grinning. "No problem." He flexes his arms and cracks his knuckles, walking over to a stack. "I'll take this one."

I walk to the other stack. "Call it."

"Go."

He reached down and picked up the top 4 cars on the stack. I manage the same. It's a race to the other side of the yard. Our legs flex for speed, pushing us faster and faster. It's a tie as we drop our loads, starting the new stacks. Mark tries to leap back to the other side, but I keep up. He picks up six cars this time.

I look at Mark. Time to show this kid what I got. I pick up the rest of the stack and start to run to the other side. My arms flex. I can see the veins pumping more blood into them, feeding them with my life juice -- with power. Mark seems to stagger under the weight of six, but I push forward. I feel a bead of sweat run down my cheek, but I refuse to be defeated. I drop the cars on the stack. This victory is mine.

Mark looks pissed now. He's bigger, but I'm proving myself to him. No doubt about that. "What's next?" he snarls at me. I hear the contempt in his voice. He wants this victory. I can't let him have it.

I decide to gamble. Why not? Show the kid what muscle can really do. "Hand to hand," I say. I feel my throat go dry as I say it.

Mark smiles. He raises his arms, bends his knees. He begins to circle me. I do the same. He makes the first move, grabbing my arms. His strength is incredible. I feel my arms begin to go down. I fight back, but his strength is overpowering. 'NO!' my mind screams, as I force my arms back up, fighting with every fiber of my muscle. Now, I am the animal, caged and wanting out. My arms begin to go up, overpowering him.

I make my move. With lightning speed, I twist his arms, releasing my
grip then getting him in a bear hug. Now, it's my muscle against his.
I begin to crush him, show him exactly how much power I have. I feel
Mark flex against me. I squeeze harder. Mark gasps as I push his
body in on itself. I feel the hardness of my body overwhelm him.

Mark fights me, but I know I'm on my way to the third victory. My third win.

That's when I notice Mark close his eyes. I feel the fight go out of him. No, that's not right. He's still flexed, but something is happening. I feel his body start to convulse. My arms are being pushed apart, not by his strength but by his size. He's not growing taller, but his muscles are filling out. He's getting bigger.

I squeeze tighter, trying to compress his mass. I'm failing. Mark is growing. I can see that now. His chest is pumping larger, his lats wider. His his abs are thickening and his legs expanding. My arms can no longer touch as his chest expands beyond their reach.

Just as suddenly as it started, it stops. Mark's eyes open and he smiles. I feel him flex...