Wendellvision

[6 word request: Reality warping supervillain improves bad roommates]

Bad dreams again. This time Wendell spent the night trying not to drown in an unending sea. Deep below the surface, dark shadows writhed, snaking toward him to drag him into the depths.

Then he woke. A gentle breeze fluttered the curtains. A bird chirped on his windowsill. Another perfect morning, he thought as he stretched. Then again, every morning in Lukewood was perfect.

Outside on the lawn, he picked up the newspaper, waving to his neighbor, Donald.

“Fantastic weather today!” Donald said. He was gardening with no shirt on again. He wiped his brow with his rippling forearm and shook the curly blonde hair from his face. “You think we’ll have any rain this weekend?”

Wendell smiled back at his handsome, strapping neighbor. “Well, I’m not detecting any meteorological disturbances in the near future,” he said, staring blankly before snapping back to attention. “But if any weather satellites pick up a weather pattern, I’ll be certain to let you first!”

“That’s one of the great things about living next to a man who’s got a supercomputer in his brain!” Donald said, joining Wendell at their white picket fence.

Wendell smiled at the remark, casually touching the metallic plate on the side of his bald head. He’d almost forgotten it was there. “Well, if I remember correctly, those gloves you’re wearing are actually wind-manipulating gauntlets, am I correct?”

Donald brushed the soil off his hands and presented the two gauntlets. Each was made of stone segments, etched with arcane runes. “You know it!” Donald said, presenting an enchanted gauntlet for a bump. Wendell bumped back with his metallic right fist. “But don’t talk to me on burrito night. Talk about manipulating wind!”

The two shared a laugh that was disrupted when Wendell got a chill, like the whisper of a bad memory trying to form. He winced and shook it off before smiling again. “I got the weirdest feeling,” Wendell said, struggling to remember his history with Donald. “Did you and I used to fight, ever?”

“Waaaaaay back,” Donald said, nodding pensively. He stroked his stubbled chin and shrugged. “But that’s ancient history, buddy boy. That was before we lived in Lukewood!”

Wendell shook his head. “I have a supercomputer in my brain and yet… I can’t remember anything from before I lived in Lukewood.”

Donald shrugged. The mailman approached and Donald waved to him. “Just toss them in the air!” he said. Donald waved his fingers and the runes on his gauntlets lit up. A gust of wind lifted the envelops into the air where they did a loop-de-loop before landing in Donald’s hands.

“We didn’t always live in Lukewood, did we?” Wendell asked. For some reason, the supercomputer in his head wasn’t triggering with the usual information feed, ever since he started thinking beyond their sleepy town’s limits.

Donald sifted casually through the multicolored junk mail. “We live here now, Wendell, and life here is perfect! Practice some gratitude, buddy. Why would you want to even think of anywhere else when you’re living a day like this?”

Wendell glanced up at the cloudless sky, then down the street at the dozens of identical houses. “I guess… you’re right…” he said. Unable to summon a gust of wind, Wendell had to meet the mailman at the gate.

“We’re doing cocktails at my place tonight!” Donald said as he headed back to his little home. “Game night! You know how we do. Stop by at six and bring your favorite board game!”

Wendell opened his mouth to reply that he had never played a board game in his life, when a thought occurred to him: “Clue is my favorite board game,” he said.

“Well then, bring Clue! Can’t wait to see you.”

Wendell turned from the beautiful day and went back inside. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t know why he did anything. “A supercomputer in my brain,” he said, suddenly feeling like that big word felt clumsy in his mouth, “and yet… I don’t feel any smarter than anyone else. That’s something, isn’t it?” Things used to make sense, he was sure of it. There was once a time when he knew so much, it nearly drove him insane. Now, he felt dopey… and he liked it.

Envelopes flew in all directions when a blue light suddenly appeared in the center of Wendell’s cozily decorated living room. The light spread into an incandescent line, floating in midair, before extending down to rectangle. It was some kind of hole in space. It looked familiar somehow.

“Holy shit, we’re in!” shouted a voice as a man clad in a skin-tight silver suit burst through the rectangle. Behind him, an enormous oaf of pure muscle lumbered in, swinging a thick metallic club and growling. “Holy shit, that’s Omicron! We ‘ported directly into his…” The shiny-suited man looked around in bewilderment. “Holy fuck… is this… his living room?”

Wendell’s mouth fell agape as the ogrish lout grunted before swinging his club. Wendell’s knees went weak--was he going to die?

01010110010101//ENGAGING DEFENSE PROTOCOL ALPHA TAU OMEGA// VIOLENCE IS PROHIBITED IN LUKEWOOD// DISABLING THREAT//

Wendell’s eyes were glowing green and he was hovering off the floor, the unearthly robotic voice bursting from his body. The massive muscular beast was frozen, mid-clubbing, while his smaller, energy manipulating friend looked on, stunned.

//SCANNING// INTRUDERS IDENTIFIED AS TIMMONS, SIMON// CODENAMED: DISPATCH// AND K’TAUHL-HAN// CODENAMED: SLEDGE// THREAT NEUTRALIZATION COMMENCING//

The man known as “Dispatch” clenched his fists, blue energy crackling around his body. “Sorry, Omicron--we meant to be a little more covert than this… didn’t mean to bust up this weird pocket dimension you created, but we’ve got some friends we need to take home!” Suddenly, the energy surrounding Dispatch fizzled, and he was just a silly man in a skin-tight silver suit.

“You made a big mistake coming here,” Wendell said, although now his voice buzzed like it was from a bad speaker. “I have no idea how you punched past my defenses, but trust me, it will never happen again. Sadly, that means you two are stuck in my reality--sadly for you, that is.”

Wendell raised his fingers, now glowing like uranium, and snapped.

Everything went dark.

***

Bad dreams again. This time Wendell was lost in an old, dingy library. As he snaked through the labyrinthian shelves, he could hear children giggling at him--about him, he knew, and the thought haunted him--around every corner. But as fast as he ran, he never found them, and couldn’t escape.

Then he woke. A gentle breeze fluttered the curtains. A bird chirped on his windowsill. Another perfect morning, he thought as he stretched. Then again, every morning in Lukewood was perfect.

A knock at the door startled Wendell--who was in his house?

“Hey there, roomie,” Simon said as he leaned in with a pan of muffins. “I hope you don’t mind, I did some baking this morning. Cranberry nut’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

It was. Wendell smiled. He was so happy he didn’t live alone.

“Sounds great,” he said, taking a moment to lose himself in Simon’s sparkling blue eyes and his warm smile. Good god, he was adorable. He imagined himself curling up with Simon near a roaring fire during a snowstorm--he would have to remember that for the next time it snowed.

What a strange thought. It never snowed in Lukewood.

In the kitchen, over a warm, buttery muffin, Wendell gazed out at the pool, and the massive, studly new poolboy skimming its surface.

“What’s his name again?” Wendell asked Simon as he watched the 7-foot tall mountain of masculinity scratch his hairy chest.

“Who’s that, Sledge?” Simon said as he slid a plate of pancakes in front of Wendell before drizzling syrup over the stack. “How’d you forget the name of your poolboy?”

“We didn’t have a pool yesterday,” Wendell recalled.

“We’ve always had a pool,” Simon said.

There was a knock at the door. Simon held out his hands and traced a rectangle of blue energy in the air. When it was complete, it was a portal to the front door, which Simon casually reached out and opened. Donald walked in, a little shocked to be staring through a portal leading just two rooms away.

“Goodness, Simon,” Donald said as he strode through the portal and into the kitchen. He was shirtless, as usual, and lightly sweaty. His masculine musk filled the kitchen, mixed with the warm bready pancake scent. “You know, if you keep using your portals to get around and miss out on all your daily steps, you’re gonna have a nice little chubby belly on that adorable physique of yours!”

Simon blushed as Donald poked his sculpted abdomen.

“Donald, what are you doing here?” Wendell asked.

Donald and Simon exchanged sideways glances. “Do I really need to remind a guy with a supercomputer in his head that he offered to help me with my taxes?” Simon and Donald elbowed each other. Donald ran his gloved hand through Simon’s curly brown hair and the two looked lovingly at each other before looking back at Wendell.

“No I didn’t,” Wendell said. He was so close to figuring things out, he knew, but he felt like his senses had been dulled somehow.

“But while I”m here,” Donald said, having a seat, “mind if I have some of those amazing chocolate chip pancakes old Simon here is cooking up?” Donald glanced out the window. Sledge was rubbing tanning oil over his absurdly huge muscles. The two men were mesmerized by every shiny bulge.

“I think I know why I’m so confused all the time,” Wendell suddenly said, leaping from his seat. “It’s like my supercomputer is busy… something’s got it occupied. Like an equation that’s so immense, it could take years to solve. An equation that’s constantly changing. An equation with a flaw…”

“Wendell, you’re missing all the man meat outside the window!” Simon said. Under the table, Simon and Donald were holding hands.

Wendell’s eyes suddenly lit up green. “My name’s really Omicron,” he said to no one in particular. Simon and Donald stared at the floor anxiously. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Wendell, I--” Simon began.

“Tell me the truth,” Wendell said. “Tell me only the truth.”

“Your name’s Omicron. You’re one of the major arch-nemeses of the Battalion, which is a group of super-powered individuals who gathered to fight global threats such as yourself.”

Donald pulled Simon away from the table. “Stop,” he said, still smiling but with a maniacal look in his eye. “Stop saying silly things, Simon.”

“You,” Wendell said with a wave of his hand. “Stop moving.”

An instant later, Simon found himself holding hands with an alabaster statue. Simon examined the polished features of his former neighbor, staring into the lifeless eyes as if to find evidence that Donald wasn’t gone.

“He’s still alive in there,” Wendell informed. “He was just annoying. I forgot that I control everything in here,” he said. “It’s weird that I forgot that. I created this place, didn’t I?”

Simon let out a deep sigh. “After your last defeat at our hands, I personally opened a portal that launched you into the deep recesses of space where we thought you’d be forever. But while there you interfaced with some quantum technology and… became… all-powerful.”

Wendell nodded. It was all making sense. “So I came back to Earth to fight, but when I got there I realized I didn’t want to be on Earth,” he said, memories flashing through his mind.

“Some members of the Battalion, plus some of your own former comrades from the evil team ‘the Dark Force’ got together to stop you,” Simon said. Smoke rose from the crackling waffle iron on the counter. He glanced at it but didn’t dare to move. “And you… disappeared. Along with all of them.”

“The mailman,” Wendell said solemnly, “used to be a demon named Denzigal. He and I used to wreak havoc on the world but now… he delivers my mail. And thinks he’s a person.”

“Is Donald okay?” Simon asked, gently knocking his fist on the solid statue that used to be his hunky friend.

“Donald used to be known as Jetstream, correct?” Wendell said. “He was one of the heroes who tried to stop me. I pulled him in here. I guess a part of me… liked him.”

The statue was suddenly flesh again. Donald looked around, confused. “Wendell, you’re scaring me,” he said as the bionic man approached Wendell.

“Eat a thousand pancakes,” Wendell ordered. “Simon, get cooking. I’ll be back to deal with you two in a moment.”

Wendell’s first impulse was to head to the patio door, but then he remembered he was in charge here. He walked straight at the wall, passing through it as if it were immaterial. “I’m a god here,” he said quietly to himself. “But it’s taking me awhile to adapt to godhood. My supercomputer is managing everything here, constantly keeping all of this from falling apart--and keeping me ignorant, so I could… enjoy it?”

Wendell approached the towering mass of strength as big Sledge tested the PH of his pool. “Sledge!” Wendell called. The nonverbal man turned to him with a sultry smile, his black hair pulled back into a messy bun that bounced above his insanely huge traps. Little tusks, customary to Sledge’s alien race, poked up from his lower lip. Sledge grunted.

“Once you punched me into orbit,” Wendell recalled. “What a humiliating defeat that was! Of course, it was only humiliating to the human part of my brain. The supercomputer is always learning, always calculating. Defeat makes it stronger. No wonder I’m all-powerful. You’ve beaten me dozens of times before!”

The enormous brute’s shoulders slumped. The imposing man suddenly looked frightened for the first time in his several-centuries-long life.

Wendell snapped a finger. Suddenly, Sledge’s body began to deflate. The big man grabbed at his muscles as they slowly drained away. As the jam-packed white speedo he was wearing started to slide down his narrowing thighs, Sledge reached down to grab it. When he looked up, he and Wendell were at the same eye level. A moment later, Sledge was staring into Wendell’s chest, the discarded speedo now pooled around his feet.

“I like you like this--small,’ Wendell said, reaching out to trace a finger along Sledge’s stick-thin arms. He drew a line down his bony ribcage, then dragged it along the inside of Sledge’s thighs. The mute runt shivered and moaned in response. “Every time I touch you, your body gets more sensitive,” Wendell explained. Every word became true as he said it. “But a man named ‘Sledge’ needs something to show for it. You used to wield a club as a weapon, right?”

Wendell rubbed his thumb on the head of Sledge’s sensitive dick. The little thing suddenly sprang to attention, continuing to grow even after it was fully hard. Sledge’s legs turned to noodles as his dick expanded to seven, eight, nine inches. His little nuts inflated to big, full balls. When it was over, Sledge had an 18-inch dick, nearly an entire foot around, with balls the size of cantaloupes. He stroked it with a dreamy look in his eye, one lip curling up like a rutting animal.

“You can only cum when I tell you too,” Wendell explained. “The rest of the time, you’ll be lost in your own lust.”

Wendell yanked up the speedo, which had shifted to match the size of the cannon Sledge was wielding now. The little guy looked absurd now, like he had a third leg, but something about Sledge’s new form seemed absolutely perfect to Wendell. It was like he solved part of the equation.

Wendell melted right through the wall of his house again. SLedge tried to follow, but found it solid. Instead, the big-dicked whelp had to run around to the patio door.

“So it’s making more sense now,” Wendell said as he arrived in the kitchen. While he was gone, Simon had been feeding Donald constantly. Now, the blonde hunk was nearly spherical, a massive blob of grotesque fat. He was immobilized by his size, unable to do more than wiggle fingers as much as his gauntlets would allow.

Wendell smiled at the massive pile of obese flesh. “Very nice!” he said. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, wiping a dollop of whipped cream off Donald’s chubby chin and sliding the finger seductively into the corpulent man’s mouth.

“Oh, god, it’s so good…” Donald moaned. Because Wendell had willed it, the feeling of eating and swallowing was better than sex to the wind-manipulating hero.

“Very nice,” Wendell said. “See, the problem is that this world should have been just for me alone. But when I pulled in so many other people, it made the system far more complex… all your individual wills acting against me. I mean, my will wins, of course,” he said to Simon, who listened even as he shoved another forkful into Donald’s chubby face, “but having to constantly accommodate a dozen extra people in my own private world was taxing me almost to the limit. Almost.”

Wendell grabbed a handful of one of Donald’s massive chins and gave it a jiggle. The blob of a man belched loudly in response.

“Simon, could you teleport our overgrown friend back to his house please?” Wendell asked. Simon waved his hands and a blue portal opened beneath Donald, who sank slowly into it. “Very nice,” Wendell said.

“Sledge?” Simon asked as he watched the little guy dragging his enormous cock into the house. Sledge’s skinny legs gave out as soon as he made it into the kitchen. He fell down, leaning against his big dick and his massive balls as if for support.

“So I made some changes,” Wendell said with a smile. “Tomorrow, we’re all going to wake up thinking things have always been like this,” he explained. You will be my two roommates--and casual fuckbuddies, of course. I’m going to combine my house with Donald’s so it will be one big mansion. You can take care of him, since you were so fond of him earlier.”

Wendell snapped his fingers again. Simon’s lean physique suddenly bloated out with muscle. Seconds later he had gone from a swimmer’s physique to that of an MMA fighter. His body ballooned out further and he looked like an amateur bodybuilder. Simon looked shocked as the muscle continued to swell onto his frame--which didn’t get any bigger to accommodate all the new mass. His clothes continued to grow with him, remaining skin-tight the entire time.

“There you go,” Wendell said, looking at the pincushion of muscle he had created. “You look like an overgrown tick! But rock solid. And since Sledge here has enough cock for the whole household…” Wendell snapped his fingers again and Simon’s dick was gone. The confused man, crushed by his sudden size, patted bulky fingers along a now smooth groin.

“I can… I can still feel it, though,” Simon moaned.

“Can you? Let me rewire that,” Wendell said. Suddenly Simon’s rock-hard glutes puffed out with an extra layer of softness, the only fat on his musclebound body. He took a step and the cushiony glutes bounced and jiggled. Even that little bit of motion made Simon’s body shudder with pleasure.

“So from now on, you’ll all be so caught up in your desires… and serving me…” Wendell explained, “that I can use the rest of my immense power for other things. And I can get back to enjoying godhood in this realm that I created for myself.” Outside, dark clouds rolled across the sky for the first time ever. “Now, Sledge, I want to watch you fuck Simon for the next three hours straight--and nobody gets to cum before I do.”