Chapter 2: We’re Huge
The world finished rearranging itself around them with a series of catastrophic crunches and distant, screaming silences. What had been Dave’s sleek office was now just wreckage clinging to their shins, a mess of steel spars and shredded drywall. They stood in the open air, fifty stories high, the night wind cool on skin that hummed with impossible vitality. The city stretched out, a detailed diorama of twinkling lights and neat, miniature grids. Dave took his first step.
The street below vanished under his bare foot with a symphony of compacting metal and popping glass. A chorus of tiny, ant-like car alarms wailed up at him. He lifted his foot. The crushed vehicles were now just a textured, steaming patina on his sole. He looked at the mess, then at Brad, and a grin split his bearded face. “Curb feelers,” he rumbled, his voice a landslide.
Brad laughed, the sound booming over the rooftops. He was staring at Dave, his eyes wide not with fear, but with a dizzying, electrified awe. He watched the colossal muscles in Dave’s back and thighs knot and release with each movement, a landscape of terrifying power. His gaze travelled lower, over the dense forest of salt-and-pepper hair covering Dave’s torso, down past the formidable navel, and stopped.
“Uh, Davey,” Brad said, his voice oddly casual, like commenting on the weather. “You’re, uh… pitching a tent. A really, really big tent.”
Dave looked down. Between his thunderous thighs, his cock, a thick, fleshy pillar already the size of a construction crane, was swelling further, rising with a ponderous, inevitable gravity. The sight of it, of his own monstrous want made physical, sent a new kind of heat flooding through him. It was affirmation.
Brad let out a shaky breath. The fizzing, hungry warmth from the supplement was coiling in his own gut, igniting into a desperate, aching need. He watched Dave, all that raw, hairy dominance incarnate, and the last of his restraint dissolved. This was the ‘wrecked’ he’d wanted. This was the scale.
“Be right back,” Brad said, his tone oddly conversational.
He turned, his movements causing tremors that shattered windows for blocks. He strode, each footfall imprinting a swimming-pool-sized crater into the intersection, towards the glowing sign and sprawling rails of the central train station. He reached the main terminal, the ornate roof coming up to his knees, and bent at the waist.
Below, a crowd of specks frozen in terror stared up at the moonlit planet of his face. He gave them a wink. “Just need a toy.”
His hand, big as a warehouse, plunged into the station. The roof peeled away like a tin can. He bypassed the scrambling dots, his fingers closing gently around the nose of a waiting commuter train. He pulled. With a shriek of twisting metal and a cascade of sparking cables, the ten-car train slid from the station like a shiny metal snake from its burrow. He held it up, examining it in the neon glow. It was perfect. Long, rigid, snub-nosed.
He looked over his shoulder at Dave, who was watching, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his erection a towering declaration. Brad grinned, a flash of white in the night. “Gotta scratch this itch, buddy.”
Positioning the train was awkward, comically so. He fumbled with the colossal thing, the giggles rumbling in his chest shaking debris from nearby buildings. Finally, he guided the blunt engine head to his entrance. He took a breath, pushed, and let out a groan that shattered every remaining window in the financial district.
The train wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t skilled. It was relentless, industrial invasion. He fed it into himself, the steel groaning in protest, the cars buckling and compacting as they disappeared into him. The sensation was immense, filling, a shocking, brutal fullness that made his vision starry. He got about six cars in before it stuck, the tail of the train dangling between his ass cheeks like a grotesque, metallic tail. He let out a satisfied, shuddering sigh, the sound like a boiler exploding. “Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.”
The display was the most erotic thing Dave had ever witnessed. Brad, magnificent and shameless, taking a piece of the city into himself with such wanton hunger. It was an act of pure, chaotic ownership. It shattered the last of Dave’s control.
A raw, bark-like sound tore from Dave’s throat. Lust, simple and annihilating, roared through him. He needed to touch, to crush, to consume.
He stopped playing with cars. He kicked a forty-story office tower. It didn’t topple so much as disintegrate at the point of impact, the upper half shearing off in a cataclysm of fragmenting glass and steel, spinning through the air like a thrown brick before crashing into a neighboring skyscraper in a double bloom of fire and dust.
He turned and sat on a luxury hotel.
The building vanished under the immense, hairy expanse of his ass with a deep, compressive thunder. It was a feeling of profound, grinding finality. He ground down once, feeling the structure pancake into mere slurry, and a low, pleasurable groan vibrated the atmosphere.
Brad, the train still lodged inside him, whooped. “Hell yeah!” The immense, weird penetration had unlocked something in him too—a joyous, nihilistic freedom. He began to move, doing a clumsy, stomping dance through the midtown streets. Each step was a red smear, a messy crater filled with the pulped remains of crowds who could not outrun the shadow of his foot. He didn’t hate them. They were just texture now, like gravel under a boot, popping and wet.
Dave watched him, his breath hot and torrential. He reached down, his hand the size of a city block, and scooped up a handful of the panicking streets. Buildings crumbled in his grip like stale bread. Among the rubble, tiny figures wriggled.
He brought the squirming mass to his mouth. The taste was chalky, salty, metallic with fear. He tipped his head back and let most of them fall into the dark, wet cavern of his mouth. He felt them skittering on his tongue, tiny impacts. He swallowed. A cascading, muffled scream travelled down his throat, a faint, pleasing tickle.
He plucked a few more from the next handful, pinching them between thumb and forefinger like salty snacks. These, he brought to his lips with deliberate care. He placed them on his tongue, closed his mouth, and bit down.
The crunch was minute, satisfying. A burst of coppery flavor. He chewed thoughtfully, the vibrations echoing in his skull. He swallowed.
Brad mimicked him, scooping up a clump of a parking garage and licking the tiny, scrambling people off the concrete like ants off a cookie. He laughed, a sound of pure, uncomplicated delight. “Kinda spicy!”
They became forces of nature, two gods caught in a feedback loop of hunger and possession. Dave kicked, sat, crushed. Brad stomped, grabbed, and tasted. The city was no longer a place. It was a playground, a pantry, an extension of their frantic, shared energy.
Finally, amidst the smoke and ruin, their eyes met across the burning skyline. Dave’s chest heaved, coated in dust and soot. Brad was panting, the train’s rear cab still peeking out from behind him. The frantic energy settled into a thick, simmering awareness. The world was quiet, save for the distant crackle of fires and the low wind.
Brad shifted his weight, the train cars clanking inside him. He grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand the size of a billboard. “So,” he said, his voice echoing over the wasteland. “That supplement. It’s amazing.”