Expanded Role- Part 1 (Patreon)

Patrick Prince, the actor behind the Great Prince in Bambi, is starting to feel his age- but after reconnecting with his former co-star, he decides it's time to beef up his acting chops. Enjoy!

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Patrick Prince was not getting any younger. He knew that, meditating on the acting awards collecting dust on his shelves- the last one was over a decade past. There was no getting around it; he was an older actor with classical training and a posh accent. The only roles he had in his future were cliched villains on tired sequels of tired franchises, or god-awful B movies in need of a touch of dignity and class. The one role people remembered him for was as the Great Prince of the Forest in Bambi, a much-celebrated classic; Prince could be bitter that no one remembered his critically acclaimed turn as Henry V or any of his roles in historical dramas, but that would be an inefficient use of his time.

The stag thought he would be satisfied to quietly retire with his books and his historical research, but the truth was… he missed the applause. He missed the audience. But the movie industry was such a different place nowadays, he wouldn't know where to start.

The stag stood, idly arranging his bookshelf and puttering around his penthouse apartment, sighing softly. He was left in a vague sense of melancholy when his buzzer rang. "Yes? Hello?"

"Hey there, old timer."

Patrick lit up a bit. He recognized that cocky, self-assured voice. "Johnny? Is that you?"

"One and only. Let me in? Thought I'd check in with my favorite movie dad."

The stag chuckled. "Hold on sport, let me buzz you in- I'll meet you at the door."

John D. Albright played young Bambi alongside Patrick- even though they only shared a handful of scenes together, he had taken a shine to the young actor. Patrick had used his connections to help John's career, and the budding actor had never forgotten it. They had been something like father and son ever since.

Patrick came to the door and opened it. "You know, I was in somewhat of a morose mood, so I'm actually quite happy to-" The older stag stopped as soon as he laid eyes on his old co-star.

John was as far away from the little fawn Patrick had first met as he had ever been. The buck standing in Patrick's doorway nearly filled it- his arms were thickly corded with strong, dense muscle, his powerful chest and broad shoulders filled out his tanktop, and his legs looked strong enough to kick a hole through Patrick's walls.

"Oh my- look at you, sport!" Patrick declared, mouth agape. "What- when-"

"Impressive, right?" John grinned toothily, the young buck flexing his arm, his tensed bicep radiating strength. "I'm actually just done getting my pump on at my new gym, heading back to my car, and boom, I see I'm walking by your building- so I thought I'd drop by." John paused- Patrick was still staring. "It's not a bad time, is it?"

Patrick shook his head. "No- no! Please, come in, come in- you must be famished if you're just out of the gym."

"Ah, I got my protein shake here, but I mean, if you're offering…" the now larger deer grinned, shrugging as he spread his arms.

"Mhm. You never could turn down food, from what I remember."

A few minutes later, John was seated at Patrick's table, with a plate of chicken pesto in front of him, the deer eagerly tucking in. "Man… you're still the best cook I know, Pat," John grinned.

The older deer sat across from him, still taking in how big his surrogate son had gotten. "So… do you want to tell me how all this happened? I saw you at your birthday just a few months ago, and you were perfectly normal, now you're…"

"Huge?" John grinned wider, puffing up his chest. "Yeah, it's been a hell of a trip. I got a shot at being the lead man in this whole sci-fi, action movie, and they told me they want a real meathead, right? Muscles on muscles. So I… did what I had to do."

Patrick narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brow. "Did what you had to do?"

John's still present grin grew impish. "Well, y'know. There's lots of ways to pack on muscle, right?"

Patrick gave him a steady look. "Well I don't know if I can condone that. Are you sure you're being smart about this?"

"Hey, Pat, results speak for themselves, right? I look great, I feel great, and I can bench press a small car- probably." John continued to eat. "But look, enough about me, what about you? What're you working on?"

"Ah…" Patrick's face fell. "I'm… unattached at the moment. There was one project I was interested in- thought I had a shot, it's all about classical epics- but Morgan said-"

"Oh, Pat," John shook his head. "Morgan's a hack. I keep telling you. You need an agent that can actually get you work, he's just sucking up your bank account."

"It's not Morgan, John!" Patrick snapped. "I'm a washed up has-been, that is the problem. No one wants me."

John's eyes widened, the buck staring at his mentor. "Pat… I- I'm sorry, I had no idea."

Patrick waved it off, sighing. "No, I'm sorry. Ah, don't mind me. I'm… over the hill before I'm fifty. It's how the industry works sometimes, John."

"Oh, Pat- come on." John stood, the powerful buck crossing over the table to place a hand on the older stag's shoulder. "You're the best actor I know. You're not done yet."

Patrick wore a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he patted John's hand. "You're a good man, and I'm proud of you, sport- but let's not hide from the facts. You are the future, and I am the past."

"Oh, come on, that's bull." John said. "Look, Pat- what kind of role do you want? What do you want to be?"

Patrick scoffed. "Well… I wouldn't mind something… heroic. That one project I mentioned was looking for someone in the role of a King of the Gods- you know, imposing, powerful… but fatherly. Ah, perhaps it's more of vanity than anything else."

"Yeah, well, we're actors, Pat. If we're not vain, what are we even really doing?"

The stag gave John a knowing look. "Well, you certainly seem to be living that quip. Do you need a mirror to drink in your reflection with lunch?" Patrick chuckled as John had been mesmerized by his own rippling arms, pulsing his biceps to the rhythm of Patrick's words. "That's the third time I've caught you admiring yourself."

"There's a lot to admire!" John returned. "Look, you gave me a lot of advice when I was growing up- let me return the favor. If you want that role, you need to do something to stand out. Carry yourself like it's already yours, y'know? It's a confidence game."

"A confidence game…" Patrick muttered. "I'm sure I thought something similar when I was younger…"

"And when you get Morgan off his ass and get him to do his job for once, you gotta stand out somehow. That's partially why I did this to myself." The younger deer thumped his deep chest. "Y'know.." He grinned, looking Patrick up and down. "Maybe you could do with a little extra bulk. King of the Gods, was it?" The older stag gave him a steady look, but John continued. "Look, let me just show you how it works." John dug into his gym bag, pulling out a small capsule with a bright, neon green liquid. "Just take this one shot, prick your arm on a prominent vein, and you'll pump on ten pounds, feel ten years younger, I guarantee it."

"John." Patrick put his hand down on the table. "Put that thing back where you got it from. You want to fill your body with poison, that is your choice, but I want to think I can at least accept aging gracefully."

John blinked, stunned. "Pat, I- I was only trying to help. I really do think you'd look pretty good with a bit more muscle- you know, it doesn't hurt to take a chance."

The stag sighed. "John, I apologize, I didn't mean to snap. I just don't know if it's right for me." He smiled to ease the tension. "I will take your advice about Morgan however, get him off his ass, as you say."

John grinned. "Alright, good. Well… now that I know how close you are, I'll be sure to check in, okay? Raid your fridge some more."

Patrick stood. "I'd like that. You're welcome anytime."

The younger buck crossed the table and reached out to hug Patrick. The older stag gasped, feeling those powerful arms wrap around him, John's cannonball biceps dug into his sides as he was suddenly pressed against that wall of a chest- John lifted him off his feet with ease. Patrick had no idea he'd be this strong. "Would… would you put me down now, John?"

"Right. Sorry." The musclebound buck chuckled bashfully, letting him down. "I did miss you, old timer. And seriously- I do want to help. Any way I can."

Patrick bid John farewell, and at first attempted to go about his evening as he first planned. Spotting his phone, however, he decided that he would try it John's way. With a stern, commanding voice, he demanded Morgan get him a script and a spot on the audition- and by dinner time, he had his script.

Leafing through it over dinner, Patrick's confidence began to waver. The role was demanding… and old doubts began to crop up in his mind. Did he have the presence? Did he have the charisma to pull this off? He was almost set on throwing the script away until he noticed something on his table.

"John." Patrick muttered angrily, snatching up the little needle. It was one of the buck's… what would he call it? Enhancers? The stag rolled it in his hand, and, after a moment of consideration, he felt temptation tugging at him. Ten pounds wasn't so great in the scheme of things. Knowing John, he probably left it on purpose.

Patrick sighed, and after a moment of hesitation, he injected the needle into his arm. It was just a prick, and then, nothing. Patrick held a pregnant pause, but still… nothing. He chided himself for being foolish- what did he expect? A sudden, Hulk-like transformation that would leave him-

"Oh." Patrick gripped the table, doubling over- in that moment, he felt as if he had been struck by lightning. An electric feeling pulsed through his body, and he quickly undid his topmost buttons just to better breathe. He knew what this feeling was- but it wasn't possible. The season was all wrong, but that burgeoning energy, that sudden hunger, that restless spirit- he felt as if he was in rut.

The stag groaned, panting as he tried to keep in control of himself. His limbs were aching, and as he looked down at himself, he saw why. His arms looked ready to burst out of his shirtsleeves, muscle the likes of which he hadn't seen in ages pulsating power. He grunted, and his chest leapt out to respond, the sound of fraying cloth whining as his shoulders spread out further, and his glutes and thigh muscles inflated.

"Th-this… isn't j-just ten pounds…" Patrick hissed through gritted teeth. His back arched as thick swells of brawn spread across his physique, pushing his back further and further out to the sides until his arms were buttressed by swollen flanks. His legs were thick as tree trunks, rippling, swollen thighs straining his pants. His chest leapt out further, scattering buttons bouncing off his table.

The transformation began to ebb, and Patrick was left shaking and breathing deeply. Every part of his body, thickly roped with burgeoning muscle, tensed. He quickly dragged himself to the couch, the furniture groaning under the increased weight. Fanning himself with the script, Patrick's comparison to the rut season was still apt- he felt a surge in his libido, tightening his pants even further… he needed to clear his head. He needed some relief. His fingers were twitching as he reached for his phone.

"John? I apologize for calling so late…" Patrick cleared his throat- he sounded deeper. "Could you come by? I… I think I need your help, here. Right away.'