More Than Antoine Could Handle [reboot] (Part 2) (Patreon)

[read part 1 here]

There was a fake rock behind Antoine’s back porch with a spare key inside. He had never used it before--had almost forgotten about it--but he was grateful to have it as he shivered in the cold night air.

“I called the cops on you, you little shit!”

It was Ernie, his neighbor, waving his cell phone around wildly. He wasn’t joking, either; as Antoine had hopped fences to get away, he heard Ernie shout into his phone, “Hi, there’s this skinny little naked guy running around drunk! Please come arrest him so we can finally get some peace and quiet around here!”

Skinny little naked guy…

Safely in his house, Antoine locked the door, then jogged to the front door and locked it as well. Being home didn’t make him feel any more secure. Everything had an air of unfamiliarity. It was too many steps to cross a room. Door knobs and shelves were too high. And he was still naked. He couldn’t stand looking down at his thin, unfamiliar body anymore.

He was done telling himself that all this wasn’t possible. Somehow it had happened, but he was having a hard time planning anything past the next few seconds. Chance was over there, walking around with his muscles like this was some sort of joke. Antoine had never felt so powerless in his life.

The banging on the door Antoine leaned against startled him so much he yelped. He slapped a skinny hand over his mouth and shook--who the fuck was knocking at this hour?

“Yo, Antoine!” It was Ernie. Antoine seethed. Ernie had always followed Antoine around with a hint of worship to his friendliness. Once Ernie brought a date to Antoine’s door just to introduce him, probably just for the added credibility of being friends with a guy Antoine’s size. He had patiently tolerated it for years, but now he wanted to grab Ernie by the throat and pitch him at the horizon.

Except now, Ernie could subdue Antoine with one hand. He knew, because just fifteen minutes before, Ernie had twisted Antoine’s arm behind him like it was nothing. After squirming away, Antoine threw a punch that Ernie swatted away like it was a fly.

“Hey, Antoine, you up?” Ernie started again.

If I were up, wouldn’t I have answered the door already, asshole? But clearly, Ernie had an agenda. Antoine cleared his throat, doing his best to lower his voice. I can’t believe I’m trying to do an impression of myself.

“Hey, Ernie, what’s up?” Antoine said. Despite his best efforts it was still too high, but he hoped his Montreal accent would still be enough of an identifier.

“Antoine, just wanted to give you a heads up that one of the punks from next door hopped into your backyard. I called the cops but I wanted to let you know in case he tried to rob you or whatever.”

“Hey, thanks Ernie, but I got a chick in here right now…” Antoine cleared his throat. His voice was so thin and reedy! Luckily, Ernie was just stupid enough to buy it. “How about giving us some privacy?”

“You got it big guy!” Ernie said. “Sorry!”

As Antoine climbed the stairs, he couldn’t get over how much bigger they were. Was this how everything was going to be? He tried to ignore how huge his bed was, how heavy the 50 lb dumbbell sitting in the corner of the room looked, as he rifled through his drawers.

He held up a pair of boxers. They hung down to his knees. Tank tops were out of the question (they looked like tents; his shoulders were so narrow they wouldn’t stay on) but his shirts were all too wide and too long.

Even his clothes felt heavier to him. He checked his closet, only to realize his pant legs were big enough to house his entire body now. A terry cloth robe hung in his bathroom. It pooled around his feet, trailing behind him as he walked, but if he pulled the belt tight and rolled up the sleeves it at least gave him a break from staring at his bony frame and his shriveled dick.

What was his next move? He cursed as he realized his phone had been in the pocket of the shorts he had shrunk out of next door. Who would he even call if he had it? “Excuse me, officer? I need to report a theft. My neighbor stole all of my muscles and he won’t give them back!”

*

Chance couldn’t sit still. He loved how long his stride was now, how much he had to widen his stance to get his big quads around each other. He couldn’t help but walk through doorways just to feel his shoulders and arms brushing against the sides. He didn’t want the guys to see how excited he was about all this new muscle. Then again, being as big as he was, he felt like it was his obligation to do exactly what he wanted whenever he wanted. He didn’t have to put on airs for anyone anymore.

“Fuck, you think you can pick up a car now?” Reggie said, taking a long drag off his vape.

“Or, y’know, do that thing that muscleguys do…” Toots said. “Y’know, where you make your chest bounce around?”

Chance rolled his eyes. Both guys seemed amped up ever since Chance had stolen that bodybuilder guy’s size. Reggie, no doubt, figured his close friendship with Chance meant he now had a massive pile of muscles on his side. And Toots… well, Chance had a good idea why Toots was staring at him, wide-eyed, almost afraid to blink. The little shit was literally drooling…

“We need to make moves, fellas,” Chance said, taking a deep breath. It felt good to fill up these big lungs, to watch his chest swell out even more. “Cops were already here once tonight. And that little twerp is still out there. Not like anybody would believe him if he told on us… but if the cops show up again, all this fun’s going to stop.”

Reggie clapped Chance on his swollen shoulder. “Fuck yeah, bro. Gonna have some FUN with all this muscle behind us now!”

“Yeah, fun!” Toots said. He grabbed Chance’s arm and gave it a squeeze. Chance glared at the contact and Toots immediately shrank away.

“Grab whatever you need, guys. We’re leaving this shithold behind.”

“Where are we going?” Reggie said. Chance pulled Antoine’s phone out of one pocket. He pulled his keys out of the other.

“Right next door.”

As the guys stuffed beers in their pockets, Chance opened the front door carefully and peered out, scanning the quiet streets. A car slowly passed by. Chance pulled the door closed quietly, waiting for the headlights to pass.

“Why the fuck are you hiding?” Reggie said. “You see anybody who messes with us, you just show them those big arms! Who’s going to mess with you now?”

“I may be big,” Chance said, “but I’m not Superman.” He gave his cannon-sized limbs a glance and smirked. “Close, but not quite. We get arrested, tossed in jail, all this muscle isn’t going to be enough to bend bars.” Even as he made the statement, he wondered if it were actually true. It was hard to imagine the limits of being this size. “And what’s the fun of having all this muscle if I can’t be free to do whatever the fuck I want with it?”

“What ARE we going to do with it?” Reggie asked.

Chance rolled his eyes. What was this “we” stuff? That was a lesson he would teach later on.

“We’re going to do whatever the fuck he wants, obviously,” Toots said. “Right big man?”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up. Coast is clear. Let’s go help ourselves to more of our buddy Antoine’s shit.”

The first key on the ring he tried opened the front door. Chance smiled as the door opened without resistance. It was so much more satisfying than breaking and entering. “Yo, little Ant?” Chance called into the empty house. “You home, little man?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted Antoine to be there or if he wanted him to be long gone.

Reggie rushed into the kitchen while Toots flopped down on the couch in the living room, turning on the TV. “Fuckin’ A, this is the easiest home invasion ever!” Toots said as he flipped through the channels.

“Dammit, he doesn’t have anything good to eat!” Reggie called from the kitchen. Chance snorted.

“Of course not. He’s a fucking bodybuilder. I bet it’s a ton of chicken breasts and rice in there.”

“Right on!” Reggie called back. “And the sink is full of tupperware.”

Chance smiled. Must be nice, he thought, getting up, eating a meal specially designed to be good for your body, going to the gym, working up a sweat, getting huge while everyone fawns over you… and having all that be your job.

He started up the stairs. They creaked under his weight. “Ant, if you’re home, just make yourself known. I won’t squash you if you show yourself. But if I have to find you…”

“Squash him anyway!” Toots called from the living room. “But call us in to watch first.”

He threw open the bedroom door and smiled. The place stunk the way he hoped it would, like gym sweat, cologne and protein farts. Chance walked through the room, admiring the huge bed. “Big enough for a body like mine,” he said. He opened a door across the room and walked into a spacious bathroom. “Shower’s nice and wide,” he noticed.

Then he opened the closet, pulling out pairs of pants that would actually fit legs his size. “Can’t buy these at Wal-Mart,” he said, holding them up against his waist. “Specially fucking ordered.” He pulled open the top drawer of the bureau and his eyes lit up as he saw a pile of brightly colored little suits.

“FUCK yeah,” he said, snatching out a bright teal pair and holding them up. Imagine how good his body was going to look in them now? Luckily, he didn’t have to imagine.

He flopped his massive frame on the bed, shocked as he heard a yelp underneath. “Fuck, you WERE hiding!” Chance said, leaping to his feet. He reached under the bed, narrowly missing the skinny ankle that pulled away. Dropping down on all fours, he grunted as he tried to reach the scrawny former bodybuilder as he scurried up against the wall. “Fuck!” he bellowed, frustrated at how clunky and unwieldy he’d become. He grabbed the bed and heaved it up with one hand, grabbing the belt on Antoine’s oversized robe with the other. He tossed him across the room.

Little Antoine just wheezed as he hit the floor, the wind knocked from him. Chance set down the bed and walked up to him, his hands on his hips. He bounced one of his pecs, hoping it looked as intimidating as he’d intended. Too bad Toots isn’t here to see this. He’d probably nut in his pants.

“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” Antoine said, wincing in pain.

Chance smiled. “I like your voice now. It got small too. Neat how that happens, right? How mine got all deep and manly?”

“Fuck you!” Antoine snapped.

“It’s so cute, all high-pitched with that accent. It really is super faggy, you know. Does that bug you?”

Behind them, the bedroom door flew open. Reggie burst in, a half-eaten chicken breast in his hand. Toots fumbled in after.

“You found him!” Toots said.

“You gonna stomp him?” Reggie asked, pounding his fist into his hand.

“Wait, let me get out my phone. I want to video this!” Toots said, fumbling through his pockets.

“BOTH of you, get the fuck out of here,” Chance ordered. They looked at each other, then back at Chance. “The fuck, guys. Don’t fucking make me repeat myself!” Chance stomped at the door, flexing his huge hands. Reggie pushed Toots back into the hallway and slammed the door shut.

Chance turned around. “Look, Ant, I have a feeling we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Are you fucking KIDDING me?” Antoine spat back. Chance smiled. For sure, the professional athlete had intended to sound aggressive and intimidating, but he couldn’t help but sound like a whiny twerp now.

Chance unfurled the little teal speedo he’d balled up in his hand. “Show me how to wear this little thong thing.”

“Posing trunks,” Antoine corrected. “What do you mean, ‘show you’? You put your legs through the holes and pull them up.”

Chance pulled off the sweatpants and eyed up the little trunks. “These are fucking tiny. They really gonna fit? I think I ended up a little bigger than you used to be.”

Antoine bit his lip and turned away as Chance gave his six-inches-soft cock a jostle.

“Let’s see,” he said, pulling them up. “Fuck, look at that!” Chance’s whole enormous physique was on full display now. His eyes went wide; he knew how big he FELT, he knew how much space he took up, but nothing compared to the sight of this inhumanly large, perfectly sculpted physique. He raised his arms and shifted his hips just to see each individual muscle flex. “I’m… fucking… perfect…”

He was so wrapped up in his body that he almost didn’t notice Antoine slowly creeping toward the window. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Chance roared. Antoine reached for the window lock but Chance grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him overhead.

“Why don’t you… just fucking… kill me?” Antoine said as he flailed his skinny limbs uselessly.

“I don’t want to kill you, little guy,” Chance said, setting Antoine down on the bed, which sat crookedly away from the wall since Chance had tossed it back down.

“What, you just want to… take all my shit?” Antoine said. He tossed a pillow at Chance, who easily swatted it aside.

“Look,” Chance said. “We don’t have to fight like this. Remember, YOU’RE the one who came over to OUR house and started barking out orders.” Antoine scoffed. Chance just shrugged. “Look, here’s the thing: I’m not planning on keeping all of this size forever. I like to keep a low profile, mostly. Being this much of a freak… having everybody stare at me all the time, standing out in every crowd… puts a real damper on my lifestyle.”

“Lifestyle? Like stealing shit? Getting fucked up? Being a fucking pest?”

Chance ignored the protests and continued. “I just have a little bit I want to accomplish with all this muscle. Just a few bucket list things… Like I want to fuck that blonde from across the street.”

“You’re a fucking pig.”

Chance shrugged. “Yeah, but now I’m a 300 pound stud, so… oink oink, right?” He chuckled. “And I want to go to a gym. Lift tons of weight. Really embarrass some of the big macho guys there.”

Antoine rolled his eyes. “That’s pathetic.”

Chance smiled. “Well, I’m the one in charge, so I get to make the calls, little Ant. Anyway, I also want to, y’know… learn how to pose. Flex like you do in the magazines. I want you to teach me.”

“Fuck you.”

“This lasts as long as I want it to,” Chance reminded him. “I COULD always walk out the door, hop on a bus and end up miles from here, taking all your muscles with you. I can unload them on someone else, but you’ll never get them back. You want to be a 90 pound weakling for the rest of your life? Or do you want to cooperate and get your life back eventually?”

Antoine blinked. “Wait, are you serious? Cooperate how?”

“Do what I say for a few weeks,” Chance said. He turned back to the mirror. “Tomorrow morning, you and I will go to the gym while the guys chill here. You’re going to show me how to lift. I may have the muscles but YOU have the know-how. I want to really make some big tough guys feel like little pussies.”

“You’re demented.”

“You realize no one is going to believe you if I bail right now, right? And Chance isn’t even my real name. You really want to kiss all this hard-earned muscle goodbye, little man?” He flexed a 25-inch bicep, raised it and kissed it, then reached down and poked Antoine in his bony arm.

Antoine just winced.

“I tell you what,” Chance said. “Think it over. I’m headed downstairs to watch TV with the boys. Take about ten minutes, really think about what kind of position you’re in, then come downstairs. If I don’t see you in ten minutes, well… we’re going to just skip town tomorrow and you’ll spend the rest of your life weaker than old ladies. Your call.”

*

The digital clock on Antoine’s nightstand blinked off each successive minute as he lay there, struggling to think of a way out of this. He finally hopped up with two minutes to spare. The sun would be up soon. He was supposed to train at 9 AM, only four hours away.

As he headed for the door, he paused, noticing his sweatpants in a pile near the closet. His heart leapt as he headed over to it. He was overjoyed to find his phone there.

“Dammit!” The face scan failed to identify him. Apparently the shrunken head, the softer features, were too different to identify him. He wondered if anyone would even recognize him if he went out in public. He tapped in his code, then fumed that he only had 1% left on the battery. He just had to send one quick text…

“REGAN: Please come to my house. Need help. Prepare for an ass-kicking.”

He sent off the message to his friend, Regan Grimes, just as the screen blinked off.

Downstairs, Antoine saw Chance’s huge body filling up his recliner. Toots and Reggie sat on opposite sides of Antoine’s couch. “Fuck, there he is,” Reggie said as Antoine lightly padded in, dragging his robe behind him. “Little man, do you have any snacks? We’re fucking dying here.”

“I… Have some M&Ms hidden in the kitchen,” Antoine said weakly. Reggie and Toots stared at each other, then back at Antoine.

“Well? Go fucking get them!” Reggie shouted, tossing his now-empty beer can at Antoine, who narrowly dodged it. Antoine turned to Chance, who just laughed.

“What?” Chance said. “Go get the fucking M&Ms!” Antoine seethed as he marched into the kitchen. He had to pull over a chair to climb up on the cabinet just to reach the cabinet. Of course it wasn’t enough for Chance to steal his muscles and leave him skinny; he had to take his height and leave him short, too.

Back in the living room, Antoine handed over the large back of Peanut M&Ms and walked back to the doorway. He stood there, waiting for another command, as the three ignored him. Maybe, he wondered, he could just go upstairs and go to bed?

“Where is he going?” Toots asked. “What, you don’t want to watch TV with us?” Toots patted the couch cushion next to him.

“Go sit next to him,” Chance ordered. Antoine sighed and joined him. His feet didn’t touch the floor when he sat back on the couch he’d bought with money from an endorsement deal. Chance let out a deep, rumbling fart into the recliner he’d bought the first time he got up over 300 pounds, which was beyond the weight limit of the last one. Chance pitched a handful of M&Ms at the 72 inch TV Antoine had easily carried into the house by himself.

Toots had turned on a World’s Strongest Man competition. “Hey, Ant,” Toots asked, elbowing him hard. “You ever meet that big guy?”

Antoine shook his head no.

“Yeah, but… he looks huge. Was he bigger than you? Like, bigger than you used to be.”

Antoine shrugged.

“He’s not bigger than me,” Chance said proudly.

Antoine closed his eyes and tried to sleep.