Heckler

[6 word request: Catcaller develops whatever feature he harasses]

Sheldon leaned forward toward his two jock roommates, John and Gregg, in the front seat of the car. He examined both of their faces; each one pretended not to notice Sheldon’s intrusion from the back seat, staring straight ahead, their mouths straight lines. Sheldon’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Guys, I’m fine with this cold-shoulder thing you’re doing to me, but can we at least pull over and get some food or something?”

John sighed and shook his head. “I’m still so pissed at you, dude,” he said through gritted teeth.

Gregg turned around and sneered at Sheldon. “Why aren’t you even a little apologetic? What is wrong with you that makes you like this?”

Sheldon just shrugged and sat back in the seat. “I don’t get what you guys are so angry about!” He shrugged dramatically, and John and Gregg returned to their silent treatment.

Sheldon knew exactly what was up: his two roidhead roommates had planned on attending a bodybuilding competition and Sheldon had begged to go along. He still couldn’t understand why men would make themselves that huge in the first place (John and Gregg were already oversized, in Sheldon’s opinion, and the guys at this competition made his roommates look small). The idea that they would parade around their physiques wearing nearly nothing at all seemed too bizarre an event to miss out on.

However, from the moment he sat down in the narrow auditorium seats he found he couldn’t keep his comments to himself. While most other audience members cheered on the herculean men on stage, Sheldon had shouted taunts and insults, howling with laughter the entire time. John and Gregg had been furious at Sheldon for ruining something they’d been looking forward to--and his knocks on guys with big muscles probably hit pretty close to home for them too.

“You guys can’t take a freaking joke,” Sheldon said, shaking his head and looking out the roommate. Still, all he was really worried about was getting fed, and the moose-sized men in the front seat couldn’t go very long without eating. It had already been three hours since their last meal, so it was only a matter of time.

When John finally did relent, pulling over at a diner, Sheldon laughed. “This place got rated 4 stars online,” Sheldon said, pretending to look at his phone, “but they don’t serve chicken breasts and rice. Too bad for you too. Although they do serve a steroid milkshake, made with pure bull hormones! You guys gonna drink it or shoot it right into your asses?”

Gregg turned to John. “He never runs out of energy, does he?” he said, thumbing at the back seat.

“Just ignore him,” John said. “He’s lucky we don’t leave him here.”

Sheldon had to hustle to keep up with the two much taller men. He laughed at their big torsos stuffed into their tight t-shirts; did these guys think they actually looked good? Or normal?

At the table, John lifted his baseball cap to scratch his ball head before turning it backwards and pulling it down again. The waitress was a tall blonde with huge cans, but neither guy acknowledged her. Probably because she won’t increase their muscle synthesis, Sheldon thought, rolling his eyes. No big deal. Gregg, with his curly brown hair, was usually seen as adorable by most women despite his bulkiness. But since he never thought about anything but the gym, the women drawn in by his hunky looks found nothing to latch in on. Sheldon had scored more than date from amongst those disappointed women. With any luck, maybe Sheldon could score with the waitress using the same tactic.

“I’ll just have a plain chicken breast and white rice,” John said, handing the menu back to her. Sheldon scanned the menu; neither item was there, but the waitress jotted down the order anyway.

I hope she charges a ton for it, Sheldon thought vindictively. Gregg ordered the same, then pointed at Sheldon. “...and make sure he’s on his own tab please,” Gregg said.

Sheldon rolled his eyes. “Fucking drama queens,” he said. “Burger, chili cheese fries, large root beer,” Sheldon said, heading to the bathroom. He hustled past a family of five, noticing that the mother (hot for her thirties) was staring across the restaurant. Sheldon followed her gaze and saw that she was locked on John and Greg. “Those two fucking meatbags do not deserve the attention they get,” Sheldon said. He nodded at the bartender as he passed the tipsy working-class men perched on their stools, watching a football game with laser focus.

The bathroom stunk of mildew and minty urinal cakes. Sheldon started pissing, thinking back on his day. He remembered the first big mook he saw onstage, walking around with pecs bigger than a porn star’s boobs, yet rock-hard and rippling.

“Nice rack! Do you get knocked out when you jog when those things smack you in the face?”

The line flashed in Sheldon’s memory and he smiled. The audience had been awkwardly unresponsive to his jeers, but some of them had to have laughed. They must have been bored to tears, watching the parade of lumpy guys in brightly colored microscopic undies, awkwardly contorting their bodies to whatever 80s rock song each had chosen.

Sheldon suddenly gasped as he felt a tightness in his chest. He grabbed at his shirt buttons, desperate to get it off. He was sweating suddenly, barely able to breathe. There was so much tightness, so much pressure around his heart. Holy shit, he wondered. Is this it? Is this a heart attack?

Suddenly his skinny chest blew out, each side swelling like a balloon. His buttons popped off, richocheting off the urinal. His shirt shredded as his chest got so huge Sheldon started to tip forward. He shivered as his bare chest topped the top of the cold urinal. In shock, he looked down at the massive muscles that had suddenly sprouted there. He couldn’t believe his eyes, barely able to process as he squeezed each big mound of muscle. It was his. He could feel his fingers on each pec. He could make the bounce. Good god, they were so heavy! His lower back throbbed as he struggled to stand upright. He looked ridiculous, like he’d strapped on a prosthetic.

The sudden shift in his stance had caused his dick to flop around, getting urine all over his pants. Sheldon hopped back, barely able to see past the shelf of muscle he’d sprouted. It looked like he was carrying two big flesh-colored watermelons! While his sleeves had remained intact, the rest of his shirt had torn to shreds.

“Holy fucking dumptruck! That ass is so big you must need two toilets, side by side, just to shit down!”

The competitor with the enormous ass had worn a skimpy blue suit, made to look even smaller by the size of his bulbous rear. When the big oaf came in third, John had explained that it was because of his asymmetry. His gigantic butt overshadowed the rest of his otherwise enormous body.

“Ass so big he lost the competition!”

Sheldon put a hand on the urinal to steady himself as a chill ran down his spine. He groaned as he felt incredible warmth radiating from his behind. He slapped his hands to his own butt a moment before this part of his body distended out with hard muscle as well. His ass blew up like a balloon, pushing his hands out. Sheldon stumbled away from the urinal now, as his now massive butt was so heavy he had a hard time steadying himself.

A glance in the mirror revealed the horror in its entirety: on his otherwise scrawny frame, he had pecs bigger than any of the “chesticles” (as he’d called them) that he’d seen on the athletes that day. Meanwhile, his pants now hung in tatters from an ass so wide he wasn’t sure he could fit through the door again. “This isn’t real,” he said, afraid to touch his new additions. He looked like he was wearing prosthetics,but as his hands came down on his huge ass, he knew it was real, and it was him. His giant cheeks stood off his body like a shelf. They were warm and soft to the touch, but when he flexed them, they became rock hard.

“I can’t believe… I’m flexing… my ass…” he muttered as he watched each glute crunch and bounce. Just an hour earlier he would have claimed he had no muscle in his body to flex.

“Jesus christ, why don’t we paint Good Year on your side?”

Gregg elbowed Sheldon in the ribs. He laughed despite the pain of the blow. The target of Sheldon’s derision was easily the biggest bodybuilder in the whole competition, a massive nearly 300 pound freak who ended up taking the first place overall. Sheldon had no idea how a guy could get that big.

“I think someone left the air pump running too long! I’ll see you in the Macy’s Day Parade, bud!”

All of a sudden, Sheldon’s body started to expand in every direction, filling out to match his chest and behind. What was left of his clothes blew apart; even his shoes split and fell aside as his feet expanded along with the rest of him. He shivered as he saw his now comically large naked body in the mirror, his head looking small in comparison to the rest of him.

He felt so HEAVY! He raised his gigantic arms, shocked when he realized he couldn’t fully put them down because of the mass of muscle protruding on either side of his back. His legs were so thick he had to widen his stance, his feet over a yard apart. He looked like he’d been plopped there from an ice cream scoop, a round pile of heaving muscles.

Sheldon was mystified by the rise and fall of his gargantuan chest. As he tried to raise a hand to his face, the monstrous freak in the mirror raised a telephone-pole-sized arm. An enlarged heart pounded deep within his brawny chest. The freak in the mirror… was him!

“Nice outfit! Are all your clothes that slutty or do you just bust that out on special occasions?”

While all of the men competing that day wore ridiculous “posing trunks” in bright neon colors, one guy wore an exceptionally skimpy laser yellow suit, made to look all the more miniscule by his hulking physique.

“Jesus, what is that, an eyepatch? And that thing looks painted on!”

Sheldon’s tattered clothing started to move on its own, melting like warm wax and reshaping around his waist. He gasped as tiny denim shorts appeared. The waist was so low, raising his arms would have made his dick pop out. Size 17 high tops had appeared on his feet… and that was all he wore. As he inspected the tiny garment that made up his entire outfit, he turned to realize that, from the back, two whole inches of glute muscle protruded out the bottom of the frayed jean shorts.

“Is that your stomach or a turtle’s shell?”

Sheldon had heard Jim and Gregg talk about the distended bellies some bodybuilders had from steroid usage and growth hormones, but he couldn’t believe the bloated water gut one of the superheavyweight competitors had.

“Hey bro, when’s the baby do? Careful, folks, that thing looks like it’s going to pop!”

Without warning, a loud belch erupted from deep within Sheldon, vibrating his whole body. As the burp subsided, he felt another rumbling in his gut. His hands went to his belly. It was all muscle, an eight pack fully on display, and despite his overall size and his wide shoulders, his waist seemed relatively narrow.

Or at least, it was, until it swelled out, retaining its muscularity but otherwise making Sheldon look like he’d swallowed a very large watermelon. Now, he couldn’t see a THING when looking down, with his giant pecs and musclegut in the way.

“What did you do, shoot steroids right into your cock?”

While the man onstage didn’t have the biggest muscles of the whole competition, he did have the largest bulge. Sheldon was shocked by the huge mass stuffed into the man’s tiny lavender trunks.

“Hey bro, how much does your dick bench?”

Sheldon couldn’t see his dick, nor could he reach it, thanks to all the mass in his torso. (In all honesty, he’d be lucky if he were able to clap his hands together.) But in the mirror, he watched as his cock, which had been average before but now looks small on his titanic new body, started to grow as well. It thickened and bloated with size, filling the tight jean shorts. When it was over, his cock head was up against the base of his abdomen, along with two visible inches of his shaft poking out from the waistband of his jeans. The whole thing was as thick around as a beer can.

“Talk about a butterface! Buddy, you have to do something to fix that ugly mug of yours!”

While Sheldon could understand how some women could be attracted to these superhumanly developed men with pretty faces on top, one of the competitors was so shockingly ugly Sheldon wasn’t sure the guy had ever had sex he hadn’t paid for. He had wide-set eyes, bulbous cheeks, a bulky jaw and a thick forehead.

“Dude, you can’t exercise ugly away! Try a paper bag over your head next time!”

Sheldon’s face, the only thing that still looked like him, started to shift around like molding clay. He whimpered as his hair retracted into his head, his features twisting and reshaping until he looked like a shaved ape. His nose was flat now, his round head looking distinctly simian.

Sheldon was only barely able to squeeze out of the restroom door with considerable effort. As he twisted and tried to relax, his pecs and gut wedged in the doorway, he couldn’t help but notice the men at the bar laughing as he struggled. Some of them pulled out their phones and snapped pictures.

“Call the fire department!” the bartender said loudly. “Looks like we’ve got an overgrown ape stuck in the bathroom door!”

Sheldon wanted to go over there and smash the guy’s face in--he could now, after all--but how tough could he be with his dick sticking out for everyone to see? As he waddled past, the family he’d seen earlier looked at him with disgust.

“See, THIS is why I don’t want you doing steroids!” the mother said to her teenage son. Sheldon hung his head in shame, wanting only to be somewhere nobody could see him.

As he approached his roommates, they looked at him with the same weary annoyance they had before he’d blown into a goliath. Why weren’t they shocked by how he looked--or how he was dressed? Why did they seem to recognize him even though he couldn’t recognize himself?

“Hey man,” John began. “Don’t try to sit at the table again. I’m not paying from another broken chair because of your gigantic ass.”

“Yeah,” Gregg said, “get out in the truck and wait for us. We’ll bring you your food.”

“Hey buddy, what’s higher, your bicep size or your IQ? I’m guessing it’s a tie!”

John and Gregg insisted posing took concentration, but the dopey faces the bodybuilders flashed every time they hit a position seemed to say otherwise. How the hell was anyone taking these freaks seriously? They looked like bumbling idiots.

“How can you count your reps when you don’t know any numbers past 5?”

Suddenly a haze fell over Sheldon’s thoughts. All the words emptied from Sheldon’s head. He was overwhelmed by emotion, but he could no longer had the language to describe any of it. He knew John and Gregg--he liked them, they fed him and helped him shower--and he knew where the truck was. He wanted so bad to just sit with his two caretakers, to have a normal meal in a normal place, but he knew a freak like him had no business being there.

Just the sight of his two muscular friends made his exposed cock jump, a dollop of pre-cum dangling from the end. Nearby diners cringed and groaned. Sheldon blushed. He just thought guys with muscles were so cute… he wanted to feel his buddies’ muscles, and he wanted to let them feel his. But all these scrawny normal people were always so grossed out by him…

Deep down he desperately wanted to cover up, but as he lumbered out, he started to accept the reality that this was what he liked to expose his body as much as possible. Normal clothes were too small for him. What else was he going to do?

As he sat in the bed of John’s flatbread truck, passersby gawked at him.

“Hey, monkey, you want a banana?” one said to him.

“He doesn’t know what a banana is! Look at him, he probably doesn’t even know his own name!”

His face fell as he realized the men were making fun of him. Besides, he knew his own name! It was… it was...