Roger Vs. Sparky

[muscle drain, twinkification, muscle-growth]

Darius stood across the street from the club, Hot Rod, watching with a grin as the line progressed. His attention was focused on the 5’1” twink making eyes at every man who sauntered by. He had a blonde mohawk and wore a sheer tank top, his bulging booty crammed into a pair of tiny shorts. He was chest-high on every other man around, but he flirted with the aggression of a man twice his size, shifting his hips to show off his large, soft rear.

This wasn’t how the twink was supposed to look. A week ago, the twink had been a bouncer working the front door of the Hot Rod. His name had been Roger; Darius had no idea what he’d been going by since he’d “down-sized.” Roger had been a gruff, quiet bear of a man until he there Darius out for being too drunk. His assessment had been correct, but something about the way those thick, gruff hands grabbed him and tossed him on the sidewalk… or maybe it was the way he’d crossed his arms and leered over Darius as he struggled to stand… was reason enough for Darius to spin together a curse for the brute. And what a curse it had turned out to be!

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” Darius said with a chuckle.

The real action began when the twink got to the front of the line. The bouncer, a broadly built man with short curly hair, threw his hand down to block the twink’s approaching hand from his crotch. “Not tonight, shrimpy,” the bouncer barked. “We’ve kicked you out of here every day this week. Take some time off.”

The twink performed a pout, then turned away, shuffling past the line with a pronounced wiggle, as if showing off exactly what these men were missing out on as he left. Darius approached, shocked at just how petite the little guy was. “Forgot how teeny-weeny I made you,” Darius said–to himself, but the twink heard. He perked up, eyes traveling up and down Darius’ form before he licked his lips and stepped up.

“I’m not teeny-weeny where it counts!” he said in a shrill voice. He turned around and placed both hands on his big butt, giving it a shake. “What are you up to tonight?”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Darius chuckled. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“They call me Sparky,” he said, blowing Darius a kiss. The street light reflected off the glitter smeared over Sparky’s face.

“Wow,” Darius said, shaking his head. “I must have been REALLY drunk when I cursed you. I laid it on REALLY thick!” Darius motioned for the little twink to follow him, heading into a nearby alley. Sparky leaned in for a kiss, but Darius held his shoulders at arm’s-length. “No, we’re not gonna hook up. I just wanted to show you…”

Darius snapped his fingers. Sparky’s body suddenly shot up, his frame blooming with muscle and bulk. His clothes never changed (only shifting size to fit his new body the same way).

The 280 lb bald-headed brute standing before Darius looked around, shocked, pawing at his thick body. His wide shoulders and barrel-chest sat atop a keg of solid meat, truly filling the see-through net shirt to its capacity. His blocky head looked squashed between thick traps, each of his arms like full holiday hams. A carpet of dark fur covered every inch of his mass. He looked like someone had given a drag makeover to a caveman.

“What the… what the fuck…” he spoke in Roger’s deep, gravelly voice, his face still sparkling with glitter.

“See? That’s what you’re SUPPOSED to look like,” Darius said. Another snap, and Roger deflated like a balloon. The man, who could have easily smashed Darius through a wall with one hand, shrank down to a petite, flirty little twink once again. Sparky’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck… fuck, what am I ON?!” the little guy said, his hand slapping to his chest.

“Calm down,” Darius demanded, holding Sparky still now that he was small and manageable once again. “I did some magic… it’s what I do… and this is your new life now… IF you want.”

“IF I want?” Sparky said. “What do you mean? This hasn’t always been my life?”

“No, you USED to work at that bar you just got thrown out of,” Darius explained. “But you’ve never looked as happy as I see that you are right now.

Sparky raised an arm and gave a sniff. For the thirty seconds he’d been big Roger again, a thick stink had poured from his pits. He was back to smelling like vanilla again. He scrunched up his face. “That was… I smelled… gross but… hot?”

“So, here’s the thing,” Darius explained while Sparky continued to massage his own perky butt. “I can undo the curse, snap you back to big Roger again, or I can make it permanent. Sparky will be your new life. Your call.”

Sparky licked his lips. “Yeah, make me BIG again,” he said, flexing his slender arms, imagining the corded mounds of muscle he’d had for just a few moments. “Yeah, make me HUGE. I’ll be crushing guys’ pelvises with all that muscle. I’ll be the biggest bottom in town!”

“WELL,” Darius explained with a shrug. “...thing is, if I set you back, this whole ‘Sparky’ persona disappears too. You go back to the old you. And TRUST me, you were NOT a horny bottom before.”

Sparky’s brow furrowed as he started to pace. “Fuck, wish I could smoke some weed right now…” he said, whimpering. “Shit! Wish I had some adderall or something to help me THINK!”

Darius was feeling considerate. “Would it help to check out some of your old life before you make the choice? See if ‘Roger’ is who you want to be?”

Sparky stomped a foot. “Well, obviously SPARKY is who I want to be, seeing as it’s who I AM! But… I dunno, when I was big it felt… good…”

Darius shrugged. He snapped his fingers.

The alley instantly vanished, replaced by a studio apartment. Sparky’s hand clapped over his nose. “OH, god, it smells like a gym locker room in here!” he shrieked.

“Like YOU’VE ever been inside a gym locker room,” Darius laughed. He had a seat on the weight bench by the window, the bar still loaded with 45 pound plates on each side. Meanwhile, Sparky walked through the apartment, stepping over dirty laundry strewn around and marveling at the lack of furniture–besides the weight bench, there was a single recliner, a queen-sized bed (the fitted sheet snapped up on two sides) and a single folding card table with an open laptop on it.

Sparky snatched up a jockstrap from the floor, cringed at it for a moment, then raised it to his face. He groaned at first, then sighed, taking another deep breath. Then he held it against himself, admiring how huge it was–as well as the large, worn in pouch in the front.

“Is this… is this how big my DICK is?” Sparky said, eyes wide.

Darius shrugged. “Technically, it’s how big ROGER’S dick is, but it doesn’t matter. He’s still a bottom, just like you, but he’s closeted.”

Sparky’s foot hit a 50 pound dumbbell on the ground. He struggled to lift it, but it never budged. “I bet I could pick this up with my big muscles, right?” he said.

“Try it out,” Darius said. Another finger-snap and Sparky hulked out, becoming no-necked muscle brute Roger once again (albeit still slutted-up in Sparky’s outfit and smeared with glitter). The big shimmery man grabbed the dumbbell and curled it with ease, grinning widely as he watched his thick arm muscles twitch and crunch. He tossed the dumbbell casually to the floor and flexed his arms, taking a heavy whiff of his thick musk.

Then down he went, turning from a monster who seemed almost too big for this small apartment to a little dewdrop of a man who used every inch of his little body to maximum effect. “Now THAT… That is nice,” Sparky said.

“I can only do that for short bursts,” Darius said. “Any longer than about a minute and it counts as negating the curse, which I’m not allowed to do, so…”

Sparky opened the fridge, pulling out small vials, his eyes lighting up.

“NOT drugs,” Darius filled in. “Well, not the kind you’re thinking of. It’s growth hormone. Big Roger just wants to be ‘Even Bigger Roger’ but who knows who he’s building that body up for?”

“What do you mean?” Sparky said. He marveled at pictures on Roger’s fridge: Roger, in his college football uniform, dwarfing the other men on his team; Roger, setting a bench press world record at a powerlifting meet; Roger, shirtless on the beach, alone.

“Roger’s a virgin,” Darius filled in.

“WHAT? That big sexy bear?”

“Yeah,” Darius said. “That beach photo was taken by a stranger. He had to ASK him to take it.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“Part of the curse,” Darius said. “When I hit you with magicks, I learn a lot about you.” He shrugged.

Sparky’s face fell. “Well, if I was Roger, couldn’t I, y’know… come out? Get on Grindr? Start making up for lost time now?”

Darius shrugged. “You COULD, but Roger never would. Poor guy is a loner. He’s huge, but too scared to admit what he really wants. Check out his laptop.”

Sparky tapped the keyboard, then gasped when a half-dozen windows sprung up. He clicked the “play” button on each of them, admiring the large, beefy men getting fucked by gorgeous studs in each of the videos. “Aw, poor guy just needs some dick!” Sparky said.

“And he’s getting it now!” Darius said. “So, technically, you could say I HELPED you.”

Sparky gave one last look at the videos playing, then slammed the laptop shut. “You just snapped your fingers and transported us here, but you CAN’T let me be big AND out of the closet? What the hell are these weird rules?”

Darius rose to his feet, nudging a path through the dirty clothes as he made his way toward Sparky. “There’s different rules when it comes to curses,” he explained. “I acted out in anger, cooked up a punishment for you. YOU may LOVE your life, but Roger would hate it. If I let you fix Roger’s life, it wouldn’t be much of a curse, would it? It’s about balancing the scales, yin and yang and all that. So yeah, there’s rules, buddy. Sorry.”

Sparky crossed his arms and turned his head away. “I think you’re a jerk,” he said.

Darius laughed. “HEY, man, another rule of the curse is that I can’t slap it on an innocent man! Did you know EVERY guy who’s fucked you this week was a guy you bullied, tossed around, or otherwise abused when you were big man in your cheesy little position of authority?”

Sparky’s eyes went wide. “Wait, really? Spencer? TRAVIS? That, uh… that guy with the ten-incher, what was his name…”

Darius nodded. “All part of the balancing act. You wronged them, so you’re making it up to them with that fine little ass of yours.”

Sparky shook his head. “I CHOSE those guys,” he said. “I sought those guys out on my own!”

“Yeah, but the curse put them in your path KNOWING you’d be into them. Trust me, it’s both easier and more complex than I’m making it sound, but… there’s no way around it. You either stay like this as penance for the man you used to be, OR you go back to the other you and forget any of it ever happened.”

Sparky shook his head. “There’s so many freaking RULES! I always thought magic would be cooler.”

“Trust me, me too.”

“I want to go back to where we were. The alley. I want out.” Sparky stomped his foot and crossed his slender arms.

Darius shrugged. Another snap and they were back outside.

“I’m leaving,” Sparky said. “And I’m going to try to forget I ever met you at all.” He snapped his head around and stomped out of the alley–into a crowd of polo-shirt wearing fratboys. Sparky bounced off one of their muscular chests, into the wide back of another. Darius could smell their booze cloud from his spot in the alley. Fists clenched, shoulders flew back.

“The fuck are you doing, little queer?” the short, muscular red-head who seemed to be the leader of the five men, each of them with a Sigma Beta emblazoned proudly on their lapels.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Sparky said, weakly shoving him away. Two of the fraternity men flanked Sparky, grabbing one of each of his arms.

“Shit,” Darius said, suddenly feeling guilty. “Okay, universe, MAYBE this curse is going a little too far right now,” he said, as if the universe itself would acquiesce and reverse the arcane energies Darius himself had put into motion.

The redhead doubled back, but rather than hitting a skinny, effeminate man in the chest, it struck a rock-hard gut.

The redhead screamed and coiled back, the impact clearing hurting his shoulder. Roger, didn’t even flinch from the blow. He casually shrugged off the men holding him and grabbed the redhead by his shirt, lifting him up. His feet kicked in the air.

“Five on one? That’s real fucking fair,” Roger said, swinging around before launching the redhead into the street. Roger chuckled as he shrugged off a few more punches, then backhanded the men away with ease. He may have been dressed like a cheap hooker, but he was built like a tank, and eager to give these men what they deserved.

The five men scurried away as Roger cracked his knuckles. Darius emerged from the alley just as the big man deflated into little Sparky again.

“That was AMAZING!” Sparky said. “Fuck, I am so goddamned horny… why can’t Roger be a different dude? I’d ride that cock all fucking DAY!”

“He wouldn’t want that,” Darius said. “But I think I may have come up with a solution that will still follow the rules of the curse but will give you the best of both worlds.”

A month later, in a darkened bedroom, Sparky howled in ecstasy as he bounced his ass against a massive Italian stud he’d picked up at the bar earlier. When the 6’5” bodybuilder finally fired off, Sparky’s little cock spewed at the same time. Then the two collapsed, the gargantuan man holding Sparky to his chest like he was a little teddy bear.

He was so mind-blown from the sex he’d just had that he didn’t even realize what time it was. Within seconds, Sparky’s little body started sprouting up, ballooning out with powerful muscle. The bodybuilder gasped as little Sparky became a huge boulder of man. The bed creaked loudly with its new weight before the legs collapsed. The two hefty men crashed to the floor on the mattress.

“Oh, wow,” Roger said as he clumsily shuffled out of the bed. “Did I… Was I just a little dude? Blonde guy? Really fucking horny?”

The bodybuilder, shocked into silence, could only nod.

“Fuck, sorry about that, bro. The bed, I mean.” He looked around, finding Sparky’s tiny outfit. His tree-trunk thigh couldn’t even squeeze into it now. “Shit, bro, I’m really sorry about this. That guy gets horny as fuck, can’t even control him. You got, y’know… anything I can wear home?”

The bodybuilder nodded, gesturing toward a bureau. Thick Roger could just about squeeze into a tank top and some shorts. “Gosh, thanks a ton. I’ll, uh… leave you my number. I’m not into all that stuff, but, y’know… Sparky, I’m sure, would love to hang out with you again. He comes out once a month.”

He scratched down a number and headed toward the door.

“Wait!” the dark-haired man said, licking his lips. “You want to hang out? I mean, I don’t totally get what’s going on, but…” He approached Roger and grabbed his big arms, then dug his fingers into Roger’s pecs.

“Oh, wow,” Roger said, his whole body blushing. “I mean, I’ve never done this, but…” The shorts tented, Roger’s huge cock stretching them to their limits as it flooded with blood.

“You a top?”

“Bottom,” Roger said breathlessly. The door was there–his first impulse was to flee–but the man of his dreams was before him. Roger had never been able to really feel a man’s muscles before… And he couldn’t believe he would start with the bouncing mounds of chest meat before him.