BANG.
Barrow Keen awoke with a start, his head almost colliding with the shelf above his tiny cubicle.
“Mr. Keen,” a booming voice said from above. He looked up to see his boss, Luke, starring him down with dagger eyes. He nodded to Barrow’s computer screen. “Am I interrupting something?”
Barrow frantically closed whatever page he had up on his desktop. He couldn’t remember what he had been looking at before he’d fallen asleep, but he was confident it was not safe for work.
Luke shook his head. He dropped a hard pointed finger on the stack of papers he had landed right next to Barrow’s sleeping face. “I need these checked and double checked.”
Barrow looked over at the stack of papers, recognizing the numbers almost immediately. “But I already—“
“DOUBLE. Check.”
Luke marched away, his boat shoes flopping as he made his way back to his oversized office. Barrow leaned over to check him out. His boss was a dick, sure, but he was also ungodly handsome. He was also young enough to be Barrow’s son, yet here he was throwing him around like a used towel.
Barrow adjusted his glasses, his mind seething with the thought of having to run those numbers again. He hated this job, though for a meek man of almost 53, there weren’t many other prospects. He spent most of his days scrolling through porn on his computer or fantasizing about fucking Luke in the bathroom. Not that Luke would ever fuck him. A guy that handsome, you couldn’t pay him a million bucks to do anything with sad slop like Barrow Keen.
He straightened the stack, and cracked his finders, bracing for a good three hours of work. And yet he could not stop thinking of the dream he’d been having right before he was so rudely awakened. There had been a witch, he remembered, a gorgeous woman in grey robes. She had asked him something, what was it?
Keys clicked furiously as Barrow tried desperately to work through the memory. As he did, fragments reappeared, like lost pieces of a puzzle under an upturned carpet…
She had taken his hand. She had grasped it hard and whispered straight into his ear: what do you most desire?
The clicks became harder, fingers meeting plastic in a feverish storm of frustration and rage.
What did he say? At the end of the day, what did Barrow Keen most desire? Money? Fame? Sex? All of the above?
CRACK. He looked down, his jaw agape. The first thing he noticed was the keyboard—what was left of the keyboard anyway. The second thing he noticed were his hands, shaking inches above the mess of plastic and wires. They were huge.
“Everything okay?” Barrow looked up, hiding his monster fists under his chair. It was Mary, the receptionist. She was staring at the keyboard in wild confusion.
“F—fine.” Barrow stammered, “it’s been falling apart for months now anyway.”
Mary nodded, unconvinced. Once she was out of eyeshot, he looked back at his hands. Yep, still ginormous. He shook them up and down, somehow expecting the swelling to go down, but if anything, it only made it worse. The growth shot up his forearms, testing the seems of his previously loose shirt.
Focus. Barrow reminded himself. He shook his head, then got up out of his chair. He knew they kept extra keyboards in the supply closet. Whether they still worked or not was a mystery, but it was worth the try.
As he walked, Barrow started to feel even stranger. Everything in the office was starting to feel… small. It was like he was a teenager again, able to reach the top cabinets for the very first time. Only now, he was looking down at everyone like mice. He tried to ignore the strange looks from people in the office as he approached the supply closet. Once he was in, he slammed the door.
He looked down. His hands weren’t the only things swelling; his feet were starting to strain against his sneakers. He was already feeling the strings on his socks tear, his gargantuan toes pressing up against the rubber. He watched as the growth spread up to his calves, inflating them like two big softballs. There was a RIP, and he watched the bottom of his pants split up the side of his skin.
Jesus, he thought to himself, was it something I ate? He ignored the question, lumbering over towards the E-cabinet and fishing around for a new keyboard. The best thing to do was to maintain a sense of normalcy, even as he felt his feet start to burst out of his shoes, or his shirt start to ride up is increasingly barbaric forearms.
“Gotcha,” he whispered. He reached for the grimy old keyboard tucked behind a knot of wires, when he heard another RIP. Only this one was a lot closer. A lot louder. He looked down at his arm. Or at least, it must have been his arm, since it was attached to his body.
But everything else about it felt alien. This wasn’t the arm of a meek PA, this was the arm of a pro wrestler. Veins were pulsing against seemingly endless mounds of muscle. His bicep was so big, it flexed and flared every time he took a breath. But the strangest part? The pec itself was covered in dark, tribal patterns.
Is… is that… a tattoo?
“MR. KEEN.”
Barrow spun around, his arm still buried in the cabinet to hide its unbelievable size. “Yes?”
“We’re having a meeting in 5. Conference room.” Luke looked him up and down one more time before exiting the closet. “And put some shoes on. I’m running an office, not a lifeguard station.”
Barrow noticed that his feet were now completely free from his sneakers, which existed solely as steps of mangled rubber on the ground.
“Yes, sir.” Barrow responded in a voice he recognized as not his own. It was deep, commanding.
Once his boss had stopped leering and left, he tore his arm out of the cabinet. It was so big that it damn near took the whole thing off the wall.
“God damn,” he said admiring the thing. He recognized this arm from somewhere, just like he recognized that voice. He knew he couldn’t think about it now though; the priority was getting to that meeting without anyone noticing, which was going to be impossible considering he was now approaching 6 feet in height and this thighs were starting to touch.
He grabbed his jacket from his cubicle on the way to the conference room. It hid the arms pretty well, but did nothing to mask Barrow’s increasingly large legs. As he walked, he could feel the tear on his calves ride slowly up to his knees. Please. Just make it through this meeting.
By the time he entered the conference room, every seat was taken except for the one on the end, facing Luke on the opposite side. Barrow felt eyes scan him and test him as he lugged his giant body towards his chair, which made a creaking sound as he took a seat.
“Well,” Luke said, not taking his eyes off Barrow, “now that we have everyone, let’s begin.”
Luke words went in Barrow’s ear and out the other. His thoughts were focused on his body. As he rolled his shoulders, he felt them grow round and thick. He almost liked the way it felt, the muscle bleeding through his body like hot magma. He felt himself rise a little bit off the feeble chair as his ass started to fill in. By now, his pants were a thing of the past, but it was tough to notice now that they were under the table.
Was was not hard to notice was his skin. Barrow had noticed it on his hands when he grabbed the coat from his desk, but now the whole office could see; he was turning brown. Not brown; gold. His skin was hardening and radiating the sun blaring through the ceiling high windows at the opposite end of the office.
There was a loud crack, drawing the attention of everyone else at the table. Barrow thought for a moment that it might have been the chair, but when he shifted around he realized; it was his back.
Luke cleared his throat. “Everything alright there Dway—I mean Barrow?” He could sense the fear in his voice. He could see his hands trembling as he watched the scrawny man he’d bossed around all day transform in-front of his very eyes.
“Who’s Dway?” Barrow said. His voice was so deep now, it filled up the entire space. People pushed back in their chairs, eyes bulging as Barrow’s frame continued to broaden. It was too big to fit the jacket now. It fell to the floor just in time for Barrow to feel his traps shoot up towards the ceiling.
He looked down. The front of his shirt was rapidly straining. At first, he thought he was growing breasts, but as the buttons popped off one by one, he saw that they were his pecs.
Barrow stood up, the entire table shaking. He tore off what remained of his shirt to get a look at his new chest. The tattoo from his arm had snaked up and wrapped around his left nipple, covering the entire surface of his planetary pec. He flexed them, watching them bounce up and down. He liked how that felt. It gave him a rush that flooded his colossal body, all the way down to his colossal…
“D—Dwayne? Dwayne Johnson?” Luke said the words like he was in a trance. He was gaping at Barrow’s new body, his immeasurable muscles, his beautiful tanned skin.
Barrow, or Dwayne, ran a hand over his bare scalp. He felt the crevices of his handsome facade, and smiled bigger than he had in years.
“Well would you look at that?” he said with a bout of confidence. The more he exuded it, he felt, the more horny he seemed to get. He looked up over the table at Luke, who was trembling with a mix of terror, confusion, and pure longing.
He understood almost immediately. “Alright ladies and gentlemen,” Dwayne said as he swaggered over to his former boss. “For this meeting, we’re going to do a little demonstration.” He felt something swinging around in his boxers, and by the look on everyone’s faces, he guessed it was pretty big. “Luke and I are going to show you how to unwind a little bit. Have some fun.”
By the time he was standing next to Luke, Dwayne towered over him by almost a full foot. To think this was the guy bossing him around a few hours ago. He leaned in, whispering in the young man’s ear: “This time, I’ll be the boss. Got that?”
Luke nodded, and as soon as he did, Dwayne spun him around and tore off his pants. The people in the conference room gasped, but the continued to watch as Dwayne spit on his hand and lubed the man’s hungry ass. “Hmmmm,” Luke moaned. That’s my cue, Dwayne thought, and unsheathed his monster.
When Barrow was in high school, he always felt conscious about his penis. It was always the smallest one in the locker room, fitting for his small hight. But when he looked down at Dwayne The Rock Johnson’s full, 10 inch piece of man meat, he knew he’d never have to feel self conscious ever again.
“Hold on tight,” he said with a smile, and buried it balls deep in his boss’ ass.
Some people just stared. Others pulled off their pants and started rubbing one out. They didn’t care; all that mattered in that room was that Dwayne fucking Johnson was about to empty his big, superstar load into Luke’s desperate ass.
“Cum inside me!” Luke yelled, feeling the man tense up. Dwayne gave it one final shove, and threw his head back.
“GRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH.”
The load was so big, it was seeping out of Luke’s crack and onto his tattered pants. He stayed inside him for what felt like hours, riding out the greatest orgasm any human being had ever felt. And when he was done, he remembered exactly what he had told the witch in his dream, when she had asked him what he desired most.
To be desired.
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