Chapter 10: Control
The raw, metallic smell of destruction was still thick in the air around them. They sat on Buck’s open palm, their tiny, grimy bodies bathed in late afternoon sunlight, surrounded by what looked like a war zone sculpted by a cranky, oversized toddler.
“So,” Finn said, plucking a fleck of God-knew-what from his sleeve. “We’re officially fugitives squatting in an actual giant’s hand. Adorably post-apocalyptic, but lacking in amenities. Any thoughts on lodgings that aren’t currently rubble?”
Jesse was surveying the surrounding forest, his eyes sharp, analytical. “Any retreat triggers a response. They know we’re here. They’ll have tracked the… event. We need isolation.Resources. Distance.”
Tommy leaned back, his head pillowed against the thick ridge of Buck’s thumb. “A cabin in the woods sounds about right. Know anyone with one of those, Finn? Preferably one who won’t scream at the sight of a shirtless, pants-optional mountain of a man covered in construction dust and questionable… fluids?”
Finn’s smile was slow and certain. “My sister.Ashley. It’s not a cabin, really, it’s a compound. An hour north, deep in the Shawangunk Ridge. Millionaire makeup mogul by day, forest fairy who rescues three-legged wolves and blind foxes by night. Adopted, loves a cause. Loves me more. She practically raised me.” He looked up at Buck’s face, a dark, concerned moon above them. “She’ll have space. For us, and for you, if you can… squeeze onto the property. Can you walk that far? We left the Honda Civic somewhere in that crater.”
Buck’s low chuckle felt good, a normal thing in a world that had tilted sideways. “Haven’t tried walking a real distance yet. Mostly just stomping. Wanna see.”
The journey was a revelation. The simple, gentle Buck who preferred his tiny apartment and old books was still present, but there was a current of unalloyed, childish glee running just beneath his giant skin. The change felt deeper than just physical; it was total. Inhibitions were a forgotten language. The trio settled in a special satchel Finn guided him to fashion from the ripped-down remains of a highway billboard—some tech start-up logo was a crinkled canopy above them.
“See that little sheriff’s watchtower, sugarbear?” Finn would call out, pointing to a distant structure on a hilltop. “Looks lonely. I bet they illegally monitor queer hikers from there. A shame if it just… tipped over.”
A thundering, six-mile stride later, the wooden watchtower was a toothpick-strewn mess, crushed into the hillside beneath Buck’s massive footprint. The gesture made his bare foot muddy. Finn squealed with delight.
“Oh! That boring silver water tank! Eyesore,” Finn declared from the satchel as a nondescript metal silo appeared on the horizon. “Do the world a favor.”
Buck, grinning with unabashed joy, didn’t even break stride. His enormous foot came down on it with a hollow, metallic CLANG that reverberated for miles. It folded like a beer can. He whooped.
It became a game. A careening, destructive path through the wilderness. An abandoned logging truck?Flattened. An outdated cellphone tower? A kick sent it spiraling into a canyon with a squeal of tortured steel. With each obedience to Finn’s cheerful goading, Buck seemed to grow more solid, more real. The power wasn’t a burden; it was a toy. And Finn was the world’s best playmate, offering targets with a wicked grin.
They finally arrived just as the sun began to bleed orange and purple behind the mountain ridges. The “cabin” was a sprawling, three-story timber and glass masterpiece cantilevered over a pristine lake, surrounded by acres of fenced-in meadows and paddocks. From their perch, they could see llamas, goats, and enclosures shaded with native plants. It was a serene kingdom of peace and philanthropy.
Ashley was on the wide rear deck, pouring seed into birdfeeders. She was petite, with a severe black bob and clothes that looked expensive even from a distance. She froze, the bag of seed slipping from her fingers as the fifty-foot-tall, dusty, and fur-covered colossus of her brother’s best friend stooped down, cupping his hand to the deck railing so his three tiny passengers could disembark.
Her jaw was tight, eyes wide, but she didn’t scream. She looked from Finn’s bloodied, grinning face to Jesse’s pale, stoic one, to Tommy’s easy, reassuring smile, and finally up, up, up at Buck, who gave a small, apologetic wave. She ran a hand through her hair.
“Finn Daniel Fitzgerald,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “What the literal fuck.”
“Told you he’d gotten big,” Finn chirped, climbing over the railing and pulling her into a hug that was more for her support than his. “Long story. We need to lay low. They had us in cages. Buck did something about it. World’s your witness,” he said, waving a hand at the distant, stomped ruin of state forest infrastructure.
Ashley pushed him back, staring into his eyes. She saw the fading bruises under the bravado, the genuine fear masked by theatrical flair. Her gaze softened. She always had a soft spot for him. She looked at the other two, at their worn faces. Then back to Buck, this impossible being who was trying to make himself smaller by hunching his shoulders. “Are they following you?”
“Very likely. However, I’m fairly confident they saw the direction we came from,” Buck’s voice rumbled, careful, gentle. “But I can’t—“
“Buck, honey, your foot is currently in my watercress garden,” she said, pointing calmly.
He jerked his gargantuan foot back, lifting it to reveal a muddy, flattened square of herbs. “Oh, god. Sorry, Ash.”
“Can you even get inside? You’ll rip the joists out just by breathing.”
Buck beamed, a sudden, bright idea lighting his massive face. “Maybe not.”
He took a step back, making the whole lake house shudder. He closed his eyes. There was no grand explosion of light, no cosmic sound effect. The process was simply an inversion of reality, a flowing and condensing. The mountain of flesh and fur dissolved downward, rushing inward like water down a drain. The earth trembled as his mass redistributed, shrinking, settling. In seconds, where a fifty-foot titan had stood, there was just Buck. His regular, familiar, lovably enormous self, clad only in the miraculously intact, snug-fitting green briefs. Six-foot-six, a beard-veiled, barrel-chested, fuzzy-gutted teddy bear of a man blinking in the twilight.
The breath whooshed out of Ashley.
Tommy was on him first, no hesitation, throwing his arms around Buck’s thick neck, burying his face in the sweaty, smoky-smelling fur of his chest. “Holy shit. Welcome back, big guy.”
Jesse was next, a quiet, fierce hug, his smaller body pressing against Buck’s solid flank.
Finn was the last, slinking up, that wicked glint back in his eye. He placed a hand on Buck’s heaving chest, leaned in, and let his lips brush the rim of Buck’s ear, his voice a hot, conspiratorial whisper just for him. “Seeing you out there… My benevolent bear god of destruction. So fucking hot I could barely stand it. Can’t wait to have some real fun with my massive teddy bear now that he’s our size again.”
Buck shuddered, a full-body tremor, and wrapped his arms tight around all three.
Ashley cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “Okay. Okay, then. That is… a thing you can do. Good to know.” She gestured them inside. “You’re staying.Clean first. Jesus, all of you, you smell like a truck stop exploded in a burn pit. I have spare rooms upstairs. But.” She fixed them with a firm, older-sister stare. “No government suits are finding my sanctuary. You stay, you work. Feeding, mucking, grooming. The raccoons alone are a full-time job. This is a rescue, not a resort.”
They nodded, a chorus of muttered thanks and yes ma’ams.
“I’m going to the nearest bulk store. Need to get clothes that will actually fit your… friend,” she said, eyeing Buck’s impressive, briefs-clad frame. “And enough food to keep him from eating the alpacas. The place is yours for a few hours. Reacquaint. Process. Whatever.”
She looked at Finn. “My house, Finn. Do not let them mess it up.” She grabbed her keys from a hook and left, the crunch of her tires on gravel fading into the forest quiet.
The heavy front door clicked shut. Silence, except for the faint, gurgling whistle of the hot water heater somewhere in the walls.
It lasted eight seconds.
Finn lunged. He didn’t walk, he launched himself across the polished hardwood, landing square in Buck’s lap in a sprawling, oversized armchair. His hands framed Buck’s bearded face, and he kissed him. It wasn’t gentle. It was deep, hungry, and wet, a claiming. He moaned, a long, theatrical, and utterly genuine slutty sound from his throat, rolling his hips and ass down against the thick, formidable ridge already tenting the worn green cotton of Buck’s briefs.
Tommy was right there, kneeling beside the chair, burying his face into the dense jungle of Buck’s underarm, inhaling the heady, musky scent of exertion and power, nuzzling and kissing the sweat-damp fur there. “God, you smell like a battlefield,” he groaned.
Jesse, flushed and shedding his last shreds of inhibition, moved to the other side. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to circle one of Buck’s large, dark nipples, before taking it into his mouth, sucking and teasing with a quiet, focused intensity that made Buck gasp and arch his back into the chair.
Finn broke the kiss, panting, his eyes glassy. “You see it, don’t you boys? The god who stomps watchtowers is our teddy bear. All this… power.” He ran a hand down Buck’s shuddering, mountainous chest. “And he just folds for us. He belongs to us. And I,” he ground down hard, making Buck grunt, “need our gentle giant to fuck me stupid. No more gentle. Just good.”
Something snapped behind Buck’s eyes. A subtle shift, like a tectonic plate settling. The playful destroyer, the easy-going friend—they were still there, but beneath them now was an iron confidence, a primal awareness of his own strength, even at this size. He looked at the three young men draped over him, his boys, wanting him, and a low, possessive growl vibrated through his chest.
In one smooth, impossible motion, he stood up, with Finn still wrapped around his torso. His arms, thick as tree trunks, shot out. One hooked under Jesse’s knees, the other under Tommy’s, and he hoisted all three of them up and over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing. Their collective yelp of surprise melted into breathless laughter and excitement.
“Bedroom,” Buck rumbled, his voice thick. “Now.”
He carried his squirming, eager haul down the hall, the thud of his bare feet firm on the wooden floor. Behind them, the serene lake house stood silent, the first stars appearing over the water. A sanctuary of rescued creatures, now hosting a different kind of reunion—one of raw hunger, triumphant joy, and the deep, rumbling promise of release, his three boys giddy with anticipation for what their bear-god-teddy-bear would do next.