Interactive: Make It A Double, ch. 8 (Patreon)

The book was a parasite.  Ben may have opened the cover and held the pen, but the volume itself was the one in control.  The voice in his head whispering justifications sounded increasingly like his own, and though he hadn’t written a single sentence about himself, Ben knew he was changing.  The reluctance and horror he felt over his actions was replaced by a numb detachment through which he was starting to view the world as a whole.  The building blocks of reality seemed to crumble before his eyes, and he kept catching himself staring at random people and objects like he’d never seen them before.  These weren’t people around him; they were simply raw material to be used in remaking the world as he saw fit.  

But it wasn’t up to him.  He knew that now.  If he’d thrown the book away after the first time he might have been able to escape, but not anymore.  Ben could still think of positive uses for the tome, he just couldn’t force himself to write them out.  Cancer?  He could cure it.  Terminal illness?  Gone.  Missing limb?  Paralysis?  Old age?  War?  Greed?  He could fix it all.  He could be a savior, washing away the sins of the world and ushering in a new Eden.  

The book had other ideas.  It was like a dealer, giving you a taste for free to get you hooked.  Sure, it would let you do something nice at first if that’s what you wanted.  Go ahead and fix your friend or cure that loved one.  It could wait.  The occasional strong willed individual might be able to draw the line there and get away, but it knew most people wouldn’t be able to resist.  With each written word it sunk its claws in deeper and deeper until you couldn’t tell its voice from your own, until you couldn’t tell your desires apart, until you ached with the same hunger.  

It fed on fear.  Ben could feel it now, the brief instant where the old version of a person was hit with terror at the new version.  Whether he wrote them as oblivious or not, there was always at least a single moment of horror that hung in the air before the book snatched it up like a frog catching a fly with its tongue.  It was intoxicating.  Addicting.  This thing disguised as an innocuous leather journal crawled under your skin with its calm rationalizations about chaos and the need for change, the whole time sowing nothing but torment and making you feel wonderful for it.  The savior got high off becoming the devil.  

Ben told himself he wasn’t a savior or a devil.  He was just a bartender that needed to get to work.  He’d picked up a book in the woods and was quite possibly in the middle of a psychotic break.  It was much more likely, he thought, that all of this was just in his head.  He’d finally snapped and was walking around with a random book hallucinating everything.  No one was really getting hurt.  No real harm was being done.  He didn’t need to stop.  

“Fuck...I’m gonna be late,” he hissed, shaking his head.  He’d lost track of how long he’d been standing there staring at the book, but it had been a while.  He’d fucked Logan as soon as they got back from the gym, loving the whimpering howls instead of the homophobic insults pouring out of his chiseled new friend.  But that had been hours ago, and he didn’t remember doing anything afterwards.  He yawned and stretched as he slipped his shoes on, feeling like he’d just woken from a nap.  “Guess I’m stopping for coffee,” he said, grabbing the book on his way out.  

It came everywhere with him now, even into the coffee shop.  He’d meant to leave it in the car but found it clutched in his hand as he reached to open the door.  When he heard the shouting inside, he knew it had come with him for a reason.  

A man was standing at the end of the counter, berating the teenage barista on the other side. His thinning, salt and pepper hair gave the impression of middle age, as did the man’s average build.  He had a slight paunch pressing out around his midsection and even his clinging slacks could do nothing to help his barely visible ass, likely the result of spending too much time sitting behind a desk.  Ben guessed him to either be a lawyer or some kind of executive since his expensive looking suit and entitled behavior both reeked of money.  “Are you serious?!  This is ridiculous!  How hard is it to make a cup of coffee?  Well?  A monkey could do your job!”  

The young girl behind the counter was hiding her rage well.  “I’m sorry sir, we’ll be happy to fix your…” 

“I don’t want you to fix anything!  Do you know how much my time’s worth?  I’ve made more in the minutes you’ve wasted than you’ll make this month,” the man spat, leaning over the counter to get in the barista’s face.  “Now quit making excuses and get it right.”  

Ben already had the book open.  “There’s no need to be rude,” he said, a broad smile on his face when the man spun in his direction.  

“Mind your own goddamn business,” he snarled, his brutish behavior a sharp contrast to his well appointed outfit.  He puffed out his nonexistent chest and took a step in Ben’s direction like a frat boy starting a bar fight.  “You don’t want any of this, kid.  You can’t afford it,” he said with a smug grin, looking back over his shoulder.  “I just want this bimbo to get my coffee right so I can get on with my day.”  His grin faltered when the young girl didn’t so much as look in his direction.  “Hey!  Did you hear me?  Where’s my damn drink?”  

“She can’t hear you, actually.  Or see you.  No one can.”  

The man glared at Ben before turning and pounding on the counter.  “Hey!  Coffee.  Now.” he bellowed.  He started to reach across, his face red with anger, when none of the staff responded.  

“Don’t do that.”  As with Logan, Ben loved the look of confusion on the man’s face when his arm froze, then pulled back. 

“What the fuck…” the man whispered.  He tried again, but his arm wouldn’t respond.  “Just what the hell is going on here?!” he growled as everyone passed him by like he wasn’t there.  

Ben gestured to the bustling cafe around them.  “I didn’t see any reason to bother these nice people,” he said.  

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but…” the man trailed off when Ben walked over and made a slow circle around him.  

“I think you need a reminder of what it’s like to work a service job,” Ben said, watching the man’s body strain against the forces holding it in place.  “Lucky for you, Zack could use a hand, we just have to do something about that attitude.”  

“Whatever you think you’re doing here, you’re not going to get away wiiiiIIIIEEEE!”  The man’s threatening tone turned into a shrieking yelp when he suddenly lost a quarter of his height.  Ben guessed him to be around six feet tall originally, but now the barking loudmouth topped out at four and a half.  “Wh...what did you just do…” he stammered, lifting his arms and staring at the long, floppy sleeves that covered his hands in horror.  His shrunken body swam in the oversized suit, the pants pooling at his ankles and the collar of his shirt falling away from his neck.  The comically large jacket threatened to tumble from his shoulders at any moment as the man pawed at himself.  

Ben watched the shortened man’s face alternate between crimson fury and pale terror.  He was slowly realizing that while his height had been reduced, his body hadn’t lost any of its mass.  “Here, let’s give you a better look,” he said.  

The man gasped when his ill-fitting clothes vanished without warning, leaving his pasty, naked body entirely exposed.  What had been an average build at his former height was now plump and curvy.  He had thick, meaty thighs, a round, soft gut, sagging tits, and plump sausage rolls for arms.  A surprisingly long cock and hefty, low hanging balls dangled against his squishy thighs.  “I...you can’t...help!  Somebody help!” the man yelled up at the counter he could no longer see over, his voice taking on a slightly squeakier pitch.  

“Don’t worry, geez, we’re not even done yet,” Ben laughed.  “But if you really want them to see you like this…” 

A chorus of gasps and a clattering of ceramic cups hitting the floor rang through the cafe as everyone fell silent.  All heads in the room turned towards the naked, middle aged cherub who went red with embarrassment.  All the exposed man could do was squirm in silence as they stared, unable to even cover himself.  

“Is that what you wanted?” Ben asked.  Around them, the few people who’d started to get up quietly sat back down, the horrified expressions fading as everyone ignored them again.  “I figured by the way you were yelling that you liked being the center of attention, but I didn’t think you’d want to show this off,” he laughed.  “But I’ll remember that you like it when people watch.”  

“No!  Please...oh god...this can’t be happening…” the man muttered, looking up at Ben with pleading eyes.  “Whatever you want, it’s yours.  Just don’t do whatever...this...is…”  

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.  You might actually enjoy yourself without all that work tension and responsibility stressing you out.  I mean, you won’t have the money, but,” Ben shrugged, “you’ll still get plenty of attention.”  

Before the man could ask what that meant he felt a tingling sensation drape over him.  He looked over at his reflection in the windows in time to see his hair pull back into a short buzz cut even as scratchy stubble broke out on his otherwise smooth cheeks.  The tingling continued south, and the man watched in panicked wonder as his lumpy body started to solidify.  His sagging pecs pulled upwards, flattening between his bowling ball shoulders into a slab of muscle.  The same thing happened at his waist as his stomach defied gravity, lifting upwards while his love handles shifted down and back.  The outline of a six pack sprouted on the muscled gut that arched out between the beefy pistons that had replaced his soft, shapeless arms.  The excess flesh from the man’s love handles came to rest as a soft, supple coating over the solid globes that had grown where his meagre ass used to reside, leaving him with a set of huge, ample cheeks that offset his new tree trunk thighs perfectly.   

“Muuuuuch better,” Ben sighed as the miniature power lifter poked and prodded his solid new body.  The man would have been intimidating with such a build at his previous height, but now he just looked like a little teddy bear with the smattering of salt and pepper hair coating his burly frame.  “Let’s do something about that skin…” 

The stunned man’s mouth fell open when a deep tan crawled across his pale skin, leaving a tanline in the shape of what looked like a small speedo around his oversized rear and twitching cock.  His girthy package had been untouched, looking huge on his short, buff new body.  In a matter of minutes he’d gone from an average, doughy executive to a stout, mini meathead.  

“Oh man, the guys are gonna looooove you,” Ben laughed as he watched the man examine himself.  “Just a few more tweaks and we can hit the road.”  

The man swayed on his stubby new legs, his head swimming.  It occurred to him as he looked past his reflection that he no longer saw his BMW in the lot, but even as he had the thought he could no longer remember ever having owned one.  He couldn’t remember driving at all.  Or going to work.  Or school.  Or his ex-wife.  Or the secretary he’d been fucking.  Or his massive house.  It was all gone, replaced by hazy memories of lifting weights and sweaty, muscled bodies that made his heart race and his cock throb.  

There was no fear, only a surprised smile, when a tiny, bright pink thong formed out of nowhere, barely covering his meaty package.  The same was true when this was followed by a pair of small sneakers and plastered on jeans that showed off his bouncing ass and stuffed bulge in intimate detail.  A tight, paper-thin t-shirt appeared over his torso, showing off each and every one of his brawny muscles as his solid nipples poked out noticeably against the soft material.  Where his old clothes had been too large, these were too small, leaving nothing, including his visible whale tail, to the imagination.  It was a jarring contrast, his buff, middle aged body wedged into clothes that looked like they came from the kids section.  The man stared at the rugged little meathead in the window, his cock twitching at the sight.  

“Yo, Franky!”  

He pried his eyes away and looked up at Ben, a dull smile on his face.  The name didn’t sound like his, but who else would it belong to?  “Yeah?”  His stomach fluttered when the tall man reached down and rubbed his buzzed head.  

“Say ‘thank you’ to the nice lady and get our drinks, big guy.  We’re gonna be late.”  

“Okay!” Franky turned and stood on his tiptoes to reach the drinks at the edge of the counter, his meaty little arms just barely able to reach.  “Thanks!” he squeaked cheerfully at the condescending smiles.  He turned back to follow Ben, beaming with pride at completing the simple command, and lumbered after him.  

“Good job!” Ben reached over and rubbed Franky’s solid stomach as the short man climbed up into the car.  “Everything okay,” he asked when his small new friend looked around with wide eyes.  

“Uh-huh,” Franky nodded, squirming in his seat.  “I just feel...funny…” 

“Don’t worry,” Ben said, squeezing Franky’s thigh.  “You can take all this off when we get to the bar.”  

Franky blinked a few times, a blank expression on his face as if he didn’t know how he should feel about that last statement.  “Good!” he chirped a few moments later, tugging at the tight jeans.  Ben watched the older man absently knead his bulge as he sucked on his coffee, staring out the window from his shortened perspective and occasionally kicking the meaty legs that no longer reached the floor.  

Ben couldn’t hold back his smile when they got to the bar and he watched Franky’s plump rear nearly bounce out of the jeans as the little man bounded inside.  “Hey guys,” he called to Zack and Adam who were busily setting up for the night.  “Sorry we’re late….we brought coffee.”  

“We’re gonna need it,” the tall blonde sighed.  “Should be a busy night.”  He came around from behind the bar, his impossibly large cock bouncing in his loose joggers.  “Franky!”  

The little meathead ran over and wrapped his arms around Adam, his head barely reaching the middle of the blonde’s torso.  “Hi!” 

“I don’t get one?”  Zack was nearly bowled over when Franky let go of Adam and charged, his beefy frame hitting the slender man like a cannonball.  “OOooof!” he laughed, rubbing the shorter man’s buzzed scalp.  “You ready to work tonight?”  

“Yep!”  

Zack laughed at the determined expression on the shorter man’s face.  “Great!  You remember what we talked about last time?  Anyone gets too handsy, you let us know.  And if you wanna fool around with anyone, ASK us first, okay?”  He waited for Franky to nod before continuing.  “You’re just bussing tables.  If you can’t reach something, that’s okay.  Just…” he trailed off when the smaller man abruptly peeled out of his tight shirt.  

“What?  I forgot.  Ben said I could.”  

“He was acting fidgety in the car,” Ben called from the bar.  “I figured it was easier.  He’s just gonna take it all off anyway.”  

Zack rolled his eyes and waited patiently until all the little beefcake had on was his sneakers and the tented thong.  “You’re gonna need to take care of that before we open...up…hey!  I didn’t mean right here!” Zack laughed when Franky casually pulled the pouch aside and started tugging on his rigid pole.  “Come on...let’s go deal with that,” Zack said, guiding Franky along with a hand on the back of the shorter man’s head.  “We’ll be right back,” he yelled over to the others.  

Ben watched the two disappear, wondering just how much the old Franky would hate being bossed around by an effeminate, dark skinned young man half his age, not to mention jerking off in front of him.  Based on the squeaky, giggling moans coming from the break room, the new Franky clearly had no objections.  He turned to Adam, still enjoying the oversized member on display.  “How’d things go with you and Tim the other night?” he asked his viking friend.  

Adam grinned and took a long, deep breath.  “Ohhhhh girl,” he laughed.  “Those cheeks aren’t just for show.  The things he can do with that ass...I didn’t know who was fucking who.  Pretty boy’s a screamer, too,” he added with a wink.  “Often as he gets dick I’m surprised he’s still got a voice left at all.”  

“A lotta surprises lately,” Ben said, smiling back at his friend.  “Wouldn’t be surprised if we see some more.”  

********** We're reaching what could be a good ending point for this one, but there are still a ton of possibilities, so do we keep it going or wrap it up? **********