Hidden Passages: A New Order, ch. 2 (Patreon)

“What the fuck are you doing here?”  Brad spat, surprised to see his former step brother sitting at the kitchen counter in his apartment.  The lean man was bent over a book, scribbling furiously without looking up.  “How did you….did you break in?”  

“No, didn’t need to,” Pete said casually, his eyes still fixed on the book while his pen was gliding across the pages with preternatural speed.  “How’ve you been, Brad?”  

The surprised jock gave a quick snort and puffed his impressive chest out.  “Look, dude, the only thing that ever kept me from kicking your ass was our parents, and that’s not an issue anymore.  You want to tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops right now?  What the hell are you even doing in here?”  He paused then, his eyes going narrow.  “Oh, I get it.  Is this some creepy gay shit?  You always did perv out over me and my bros...you stealing my boxers or something?”  

Pete was silent, focused instead on his writing.  The only sign that he even heard the other man was his smug, spreading grin.  

“Yo, homo!  I asked you a question,” Brad barked, slamming a wide hand down on the counter.  

Pete put his pen down and finally looked up, his eyes traveling over Brad’s chiseled, athletic frame.  The other man looked as good as ever, his bulging pecs and burly arms straining against the tight t-shirt that hung loose at his tapering waist.  His jeans were stretched just tight enough to show off his sturdy quads, perky bubble and stuffed bulge without giving away everything, and even twisted by anger his face was still boyishly handsome.  He’d started with Brad because he was the oldest, and he planned on working his way down the line when he was done.  He had something in mind for each of them.  

“Sorry, just needed to finish that,” Pete said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his thin arms.  

“Are you high right now,” Brad laughed, flexing instinctively as he watched Pete’s eyes make a slow pass up and down.  “Hope you enjoy the view ‘cause it’s gonna be the last thing you...you…” 

Pete’s smile grew as he watched the other man trail off and go pale.  “Just wanted to get one last look at the old you,” he sighed.  

Brad’s heart started racing when he realized he couldn’t move.  No matter how hard he tried his limbs wouldn’t respond.  “What’d...you just...doooOOOHHH….!”  

It happened in a flash.  One minute Brad was frozen in place, the next it seemed that the room was spinning around him.  Each of his ample muscles seized at once, white hot pain lancing through him when those muscles felt like they were being ripped apart.  He stared at Pete in horrified anger as he was lifted off the ground inch by inch until he was looking down at the smaller man.  

As quickly as the torture came, it passed, leaving Brad panting in stunned confusion.  “What just…” he stopped and cleared his throat at the sound of his exaggeratedly deep voice.  “What just happened….AAAAHHHHHH!”  His loud cry shook the walls when he looked at himself and saw a body that wasn’t his own.  He hadn’t been lifted into the air, he’d been stretched like taffy.  Instead of looking Pete in the eye, his six foot frame had been pulled and elongated until he stood at least a foot and a half taller than his former sibling.  

Brad marveled at his huge, paddle-like hands as he poked at his towering frame.  His shirt was comically small on him, leaving most of his washboard stomach exposed and covering almost none of his lengthened arms.  The same went for his pants, which left most of his legs from the knee-down exposed.  More jarring, though, was how they fit.  Instead of straining against his muscled body they hung loose around a frame that was long and lean instead of strapping and chiseled.  He hadn’t gained any mass when he grew, taking him from a proportional stud to a lanky beanpole.  

“Now THAT is a much better look,” Pete laughed, nodding down at the size eighteen feet that had exploded out of Brad’s former size ten sneakers.  

“Ho...how did you…” 

“Oh, we’re not done,” Pete said, turning back to the book.  Brad watched him scribble a few more lines before there was a rush of air on his now entirely bare skin as his clothes suddenly vanished.  “Hmmm...that won’t do,” the shorter man said, tapping his pen against his lips as he looked at Brad’s still average sized endowment.  The thick, girthy package that looked so impressive on his former body now looked small and weak by comparison.  “Big guy like you needs some big equipment, right?”  

Brad’s eyes went wide at the sudden heavy, dropping sensation between his legs.  In the blink of an eye he watched his six inch hose puff and widen as it stretched towards the floor, his heavy balls dropping behind it until he had a flopping, beastly nine inches.  As he stared it started to twitch and harden, pulling upwards against gravity’s stronger pull and turning into a rigid, twelve inch pole.  

“There we go!” Pete clapped excitedly, motioning for Brad to turn and look at his reflection.  The shell-shocked giant shuffled numbly in place, feeling like he was punched in the gut when he saw the lanky, lumbering stranger.  Worse than the changes to his body were the changes to his formerly handsome face.  Brad barely recognized any of his former self in the long jaw, wide mouth, and expansive forehead.  

“What did you do to me?!”  He cried, feeling like a skeleton despite his ripped definition.  “Turn me back!  Fix this!” he roared, his long arms crashing into the cabinets as he flailed uncoordinatedly.  

“Still not done,” Pete grinned, turning back to the book.  Brad wanted to lunge forward and rip the pen from the small man’s hand, but once again his body was locked in place.  He struggled in vain, breaking out in a light sweat as he fought against the invisible bonds. 

When the stretched man finally could move again, he quickly wished he couldn’t.  The hand that had been clutching at his flattened chest slowly slid down his tight stomach to wrap around the rigid monster between his toned thighs.  When Brad looked back up he found himself standing in front of a camera set up, one lens focused on his pumping club while the other zoomed in on his massive feet.  He gave Pete a horrified look as he started moaning loudly, wiggling his toes and running the massive extremities against a strange man’s straining, tented briefs.  

Brad opened his mouth to ask his tormentor what was happening, but Pete was gone.  The big man looked around, suddenly confused as to why he thought his step brother was there in the first place.  Of course Pete wasn’t there, why would he be?  Even Brad barely knew where he was.  Following the GPS to the stranger’s apartment was hard enough, but he wouldn’t forget to get the money this time.  When he got home his brothers wouldn’t be mad at him again.  He didn’t like it when they were mad.  He couldn’t help it that he had a hard time remembering things.  He just liked it when people played with his feet, but Pete said he should get paid for it.  

He grinned down at the pinned, gasping man and dug his foot in harder.  He wouldn’t let them down again.  

*****************

“I thought that was you,” Dan spat, wiping the sweat from his brow.  The burly young man tossed his towel around his sculpted shoulders and let it hang across the glistening pecs left exposed by his draping muscle shirt.  He flexed a solid arm as he wiped his thick, chocolate hair back, an arrogant smirk on his handsome, stubbled face.  “What the fuck are you doing here?  This isn’t a library,” he laughed, nodding at the open book in Pete’s hands.  

The smaller man shrugged.  “Just thought I’d stop by and say hi.  I already visited your father and Brad.”  

Dan cocked his head, confused.  “Jesus you’re still a fuckin’ weirdo” he sighed.  “If you’ve got something to say, say it and get lost, creep.  This isn’t a free show.”  

“Not yet, anyway.”  Pete grabbed his pen and set to writing, ignoring Dan’s surprised blustering.  

“What the...alright, man, whatever,” the sweating jock said, shaking his head.  “You know, I always used to defend you to my brothers, but it looks like they were…” Dan was cut off at the unexpected sensation of muggy gym air hitting all of his exposed body.  The ripped young man’s eyes went wide, his impressive, muscled body going crimson when he looked down and saw that his clothes had vanished.  

“You always wanted to bulk up, right?”  Pete asked, his tone casual.  

“Wha...I...what happened to my…” Dan’s hands shot to his thick, dangling cock and hairy balls in an attempt to cover them.  His eyes darted around the room, just waiting for someone to start yelling at the naked pervert in the middle of the gym.  

“Never mind, I remember,” Pete said, his eyes dropping back to the book.  “You always did like the attention, right?  Let’s make sure you still catch everyone’s eye.”  

Dan gasped as his whole body shuddered and throbbed.  He felt like every inch of his athletic body was being squeezed in a vice.  It took all of his effort just to breathe against the crushing force while his body steadily started to grow.  Out of his peripheral vision he could see his shoulders pressing outwards, his sculpted pecs puffing and inflating against his thickened biceps.  He felt his expanding, muscled gut start to push into his widened forearms as he tried to cover himself, the growth spreading downwards and forcing his meatier thighs together.  

To his growing terror, Dan also noticed his perspective changing.  As his body expanded ever outwards, it drew closer and closer to the ground beneath him.  He went from staring Pete in the eyes, to looking at his chin, then to the bottom of his chest until he was nearly as wide as he was tall.  He’d been able to watch the whole ordeal unfold in the gym mirrors, his brain refusing to believe that the short, beefy ball of muscle with the round face and buzzed scalp was really him.  

“Almost done,” Pete said absently, looking up from the book only long enough to watch Dan’s changes.  “I don’t think you need to worry about covering yourself anymore, bud.”  

Dan’s pudgy hands fell away and he blinked in a daze, having to look in the mirror to see the tiny, nub-like cock barely poking out from between his trunk-like thighs.  “You...you can’t do this,” he squeaked in a helium inflated voice, knowing that Pete was somehow responsible.  

“I think it’s obvious that I can,” Pete shrugged.  “I’m impressed that you got it right away, though.  I still don’t think your brother understands even though he watched me writing.”  

“What did you do to…” Dan’s demanding chirp was cut off when it felt like an icepick had been jammed into his brain.  He swayed on his stubby legs, barely noticing the string of a thong worming up between his plump new globes.  The tiny underwear looked impossibly small on his lumpy, muscled body, but anything bigger would have left the mostly empty pouch flopping around his diminished equipment.  This one was just big enough to accentuate exactly what Dan was compensating for with his overly developed body.  

He shook his head, rubbing the pain from his temples.  “Was I just...talkin’ to someone…” he asked the grunting meathead behind him.  He didn’t know why he was thinking about Pete all of a sudden.  It’s not like the taller man would be caught dead in the small, dirty gym.  Dan wished he’d come because he loved spending time with Pete, but he also loved lifting.  It’s all he ever did.   He loved being around the brutish hulks slamming weights together and the way their wide, beefy bodies towered over him.  

“Nah, man, you just spaced out again,” the man laughed, rubbing Dan’s buzzed scalp.  “Now get on that bench so I can spot you.  Beat your record from yesterday and I’ll take that thong off ya.”  

Dan grinned, his little cock throbbing as he waddled over to the bench.  

**********

“You sure you’re in the right spot?  This isn’t a gay bar, dude,” Scott laughed, slapping Pete in the back of the head like he always used to.  His former step brother was the last person he’d expected to see when he walked into his usual dive at the end of his shift.  “Or a library, loser,” he added when he saw the book spread out in front of the other man.  

Pete rubbed the back of his head and glared at his handsome young tormentor.  He’d worked his way backwards through the brothers, saving the young Scott for last.  He was every bit as genetically gifted as his siblings, working even harder in the gym and in class to try and impress his older brothers.  He was smart, disciplined and gorgeous.  Unfortunately for Pete, that meant Scott was every bit the asshole his brothers were, if not moreso.  Always eager to impress his older siblings, Scott had been particularly cruel when they’d all lived together, going out of his way to make sure every moment of Pete’s existence was as painful as it could be.  “You sure about that?  Seems pretty gay in here to me,” Pete said, turning his attention back to the book.    

Before Scott could respond to Pete’s confusing statement, the room around them seemed to blur.  The bright light filtering in through the large front windows dimmed, replaced instead by a smokey, fluorescent haze, and what had been a sparse crowd was suddenly shoulder-to-shoulder.  “What...where are we,” Scott asked, swaying on his feet.  

“You’re the one who hangs out here, man.  You tell me.”  Pete’s tone was casual, his attention still focused on the book he was busy scribbling in.  

“I’ve...I’ve never been here before in my life…” Scott stammered, looking at the scantily clad group around them.  There wasn’t a woman in sight, which clearly wasn’t a problem for the men who were busily groping each other.  “Did I walk in the wrong bar…” he muttered to himself, disgusted by the sight.  

“You’re exactly where you should be.  Bit overdressed, though,” Pete said, looking up and motioning to the rest of the crowd before nodding at Scott’s straining polo and plastered on jeans.  “Easy enough to fix.”  

The confused young man watched Pete begin to write in his book again, his eyes going wide at the sudden rush of air he felt.  There was a crawling sensation as soon as Pete’s pen hit the page, and Scott looked down to see his polo shred off his body.  The pecs that stood out proudly beneath the clinging fabric were suddenly exposed at the sides, as were the entirety of his washboard abs when, somehow, the expensive fabric morphed into a cut off t-shirt.  The neck had been cut into a deep V and the sleeves removed entirely, leaving his broad shoulders and sculpted arms standing out proudly next to his barely concealed pecs.  The bottom had been sliced off completely, the frayed material stopping just below his nipples.  

Scott didn’t have a chance to react before his pants followed suit.  The fitted denim seemed to slide up his legs, not stopping until the bottoms were well above his knees.  Now not much larger than a pair of boxer shorts, the fabric split at the sides, a series of safety pins appearing out of nowhere to hold the pieces together.  The gap between the remains left his furry, meaty thighs on display, his boxer briefs vanishing along with most of his pants.  

“What just...this isn’t possible…” Scott gawked, his face going crimson at his altered outfit.  Even his expensive boots had turned into a pair of worn, ratty converse, and in the mirror behind the bar he could see his short cropped hair had blossomed into a small mohawk.  He was too focused on examining his new look to notice Pete writing again until he felt an intense throb between his legs and watched a thick, twitching cock worm it’s way up and out of his small shorts.  The impossible organ was nearly as thick as his forearm and had to be close to a foot long.  “AAAhhhh!  What’sh...that’sh no’ mine,” he cried, his face going pale at the sound of slurred speech.  “Why’m I talkin’ sh’o weird?  Fuck!”  He swayed on his feet, shaking his head.  “Feel like I’m drunk but I ain’t even drank yet!”  

Scott kept shaking his head, as if he could loosen the clinging haze that settled over his skull by force alone.  Everything was processing slower than it should, his expert coordination failing him.  It was taking all of his effort just to stay upright, let alone put much thought into what was happening.  “Pete, man...I need help, dude,” he begged as the other man smiled at him.  “Sh’not funny!  My...muh head’sh all funny…” 

“It always is,” Pete laughed as he finished writing one final passage.  Scott gasped, the memories of his recent graduation and promising sales career replaced by days at the gym and nights fucking his way through the bar.  He looked down at the throbbing beast on display for everyone, remembering how much he loved the sensation of strange, stroking hands while he downed shot after shot.  He had time for one last stab of horror as he saw himself on his knees, eagerly working cock after cock if it meant someone would buy him a drink.  “Wait...Pete...thi’sh...not…”  

“See you at home,” Pete said, closing the book and giving Scott’s bulbous new head a quick squeeze.  

The young jock blinked and grinned, his anxiety quickly melting away.  He watched Pete leave, unable to even remember what he’d just been so upset about.  He loved it when Pete came to see him at the bar.  “Thi’sh bullshit!  Need a drink,” he roared, jamming his inflated organ into the nearest man.  

**********

“Having fun, Ted?” Pete asked from his chair, watching the older man’s burly, ample muscle shake from the force of Andy’s rough thrusting.  The question was rhetorical; he knew his former step-dad couldn’t respond with the guide holding his mouth open.  Bound as he was hands to ankles, he couldn’t even look at the younger man since his face was pressed into the floor, his meaty rear stuck up in the air.  

“You know he is,” Andy laughed over his shoulder.  “Aren’t you,” he said, more of a statement than a question as he gave the older man’s tortured ass a swat.  Ted started grunting excitedly and nodding as quickly as his current position would allow.  

“He always loves that,” Brad laughed, his stretched, giant frame lumbering through the room, his exposed cock swaying like a tail in reverse.  The now-giant man watched the scene in the corner with an amused grin, tugging on his dangling hose.  

“He should...dad’s the best,” Dan chirped, waddling in next to his naked brother.  The stocky ball of muscle was already shorter than just about everyone now, but next to his altered brother’s excessive height he looked comical.  The top of his head just barely reached Brad’s navel, leaving him eye level with the dangling organ that was as massive as his was small.  He toyed with the band of his ever-present posing strap, his eyes darting between his brother and the action happening on the other side of the room.  

“Wha’ever...sh’not sh’uch a big deal,” Scott slurred, scratching at his exposed stomach as if he’d just rolled out of bed.  The stumbling young jock had on one of his altered t-shirts but was naked from the waist down, his own inflated club twitching half hard between his sturdy legs.  

“Easy for you to say,” Dan spat, looking up at his brothers with a mix of jealousy and fear.  

Pete had made sure that the Cipriano men retained at least a spark of awareness.  From the outside his unique new harem may have appeared all too eager, but deep down each of the altered men remembered how things should have been.  Brad knew he shouldn’t be a lean,  lanky giant.  Every time he filmed a session with a new foot-worshipping client, the horrified, straight laced jock at his core screamed at himself to stop.  It was the same for Dan, who knew he shouldn’t be a dwarfish, micro-dicked bodybuilder, and Scott, who knew he shouldn’t be a promiscuous barfly.  Pete made sure Ted had it worse, leaving the older man fully aware that he shouldn’t love being debased in front of his boys so much.

But despite that knowledge, they were helpless to do anything else.  Pete had seen to it that they could barely string a coherent thought together between them, leaving the group dependent on the young man they used to torment relentlessly.  Worse than dependent, they hung on his every word, loving nothing more than when their step brother paid attention to them.  

“Aw, don’t be sh’ad” Scott slurred, tousling Dan’s buzzed scalp.  The swaying young man hadn’t had a drink yet; it was just the way his body worked now.  “You should come out with me...the guy’sh at the bar love it when you dan’sh!”  

“That’s a good idea,” Pete chimed in, loving the brief flash of anger before the adoration in their eyes.  “You should all go...family needs to stick together, right?”