Path: not-for-mail
From: Tyler David Coltraine <magnificent_linnard@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: fur.stories.erotica
Subject: Differential Equations (M/M, Growth/Macro, Primarily Tame/Romantic)
Date: Wed, 14 Jan 2004 15:51:41 -0600
Organization: Critter Networking Services
Lines: 1707
Message-ID: <m4eb0014kauk1jc0ltrhvv743dcpc0tok9@4ax.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: 68.185.220.225
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
X-Trace: velox.critter.net 1074117098 31176 68.185.220.225 (14 Jan 2004 21:51:38 GMT)
X-Complaints-To: newsmaster@critter.net
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 14 Jan 2004 21:51:38 +0000 (UTC)
X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.93/32.576 English (American)
===================
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING
THE STORY YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS WORK OF PORNOGRAPHIC FICTION.
IT IS WHAT YOU WOULD CONSIDER 'EROTICA', WHEREIN THE SEXUAL
ELEMENTS ARE ACTUALLY MAYBE SUBTLE OR MAYBE SECONDARY TO THE
STORY AT LARGE, IMAGINE THAT. AND BEFORE YOU THINK I'VE GONE
AND FORGOTTEN: IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 OR IN A COUNTRY
WHERE SEXUAL MATERIAL IS CONSIDERED A CRIME, CLOSE THIS WINDOW,
PUSH YOUR BACK BUTTON, OR ZAP YOURSELF WITH A NEURALIZER
QUICKLY. IT ALSO FEATURES ANTHROMORPHS, BETTER KNOWN AS
'FURRIES'. THIS IS NOT BEASTIALITY. IF YOU STILL THINK IT IS,
FIND A DICTIONARY. AND REMEMBER, THE ONLY SEX THAT'S BOTH SAFE
AND UNPROTECTED IS THE KIND THAT PEOPLE DO IN STORIES ON THE
INTERNET, SO DON'T RISK IT. THANK YOU. NOW, ON WITH THE SMUTTY
PROGRAM YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR. SORRY FOR THE DELAY. DO
BE AWARE THAT THIS STORY IS QUITE LONG, AS IT HAS SIGNIFICANT
PLOT AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. QUICK FAP-FAP THIS IS NOT.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Differential Equations
A Story Of Romance, Acceptance, And Bare Hyena Rumps
From Tyler David Coltraine
(Brahma is copyright his owner, 2004; used with permission.)
Part I: Exposition
Stuart had a problem. Has a problem. There is a problem in
Stuart's life.
In order to properly comprehend what the issue is at this point
in his life, we'll have to step back a bit, to grade school, when the
entire fiasco that we, from our outside positions, would call
'romance' began.
Stuart Mouhsse, Stu to his friends, was born in the middle on
1969 to a wealthy pair of doting parents, everything a kid wants when
he dreams of the folks he doesn't actually have--rich, caring,
something from a 50's sitcom. Stu's dad, of course, was hardly Jim
Anderson or Alex Stone or Ward Cleaver; he was gayer than a three-
dollar bill, moving on past seven and maybe to eight before people
stopped trying to figure a number. Darwin Mouhsse was unafraid to be
a flamer, and given the local circumstances, it wasn't what anyone
would consider a problem. Stu's mother, on the other side, was far
more grounded, though that went without saying, for the most part.
The ship kept floating, and Dad kept swishing, and Stu liked that.
When we enter into the timeline to begin our observation, Stu is
in grade school, the 6th grade to precise. Days went by without
event, leaving Stu not bored but certainly not excited with the
prospect of another day in 'paradise'.
And then, he was given a chance to change things with a simple
sniffle in an empty hallway.
It wasn't him crying, no; it was the paunchy, short hyena,
tucked away in the corner with his head in his hands. No school is
without his jocks and cliques, and one or the other had performed its
service for this poor individual here, assisting his self-esteem in
spending another weekend hiding.
Stu would have none of this. "Here. Let me help you up." He
extended a thin hand to the boy on the floor, smiling widely.
Moments passed, neither side knowning particularlly how the
other would react, but the extension of assistance showing no signs
of being accepted. Stu wouldn't be defeated that easily, no sir; he
slid down on the floor next to the unknown lad, and got comfortable.
"I'm Stuart," he said, "but everyone calls me Stu. I can't say I
like it, but you can't scream at people when things don't work out,
now can you?" The mouse grinned at no one in particular, hoping his
mood would be somewhat infectuous.
You could say it worked, his partner looking up a bit with
golden eyes. "Yoo coold," he managed, sounding a bit hoarse.
Moreso, though, he spoke with a decidedly thick accent, managing to
press something as simple as 'could' into a completely different
sound alltogether.
Stu blinked, just a bit, thinking to himself. "You're African,
aren't you." He didn't give the other boy a chance. "We don't see
many hyenas here, so I'd assume you came from overseas." The brief
bit of speculation was rewarded with a short, slow nod, and Stu
continued. "Explains your accent. I bet you ran into Jacob and the
football players, and they probably found it a laugh."
The other boy, the as-of-yet unnamed one, sighed deeply, chin on
his knees. "Yes. Was not funnay, but thay t'ought so." He wiped
his nose with a hanky. "Yoo don' loff, dough. Don' t'ink its
funnay, or jus' waitin' far me to leaf?"
Stu looked the African import right in the eyes, grinning madly.
It was a technique he'd worked out years before, and this was a
prime moment to break it out. "You? Funny? No...I've seen some
things that are a lot cooler than making fun of you. Heck, you need
someone on your side. And hey, I'll have the only hyena friend in
the school. But what's your name, anyway? I can't just go around
calling you 'hyenadude' all the time. It's...what's my dad say...
'undignified'."
The previously distressed member of the pairing snickered,
softly, and shook his head. "Yoo 'mericans ah odd." He put his
hanky away, and started to stand up, Stu right alongside. "I am
Harold D'ogu...jus' call me Harold." Harold was shorter than Stu,
just barely, but being an inch shorter than a 4'10" mouse was
certainly something that would be pointed out to you repeatedly.
And thusly it began. The pair of boys was absolutely inseprable
for the next eternity, though we certainly can't skip that far ahead
that fast. No, their relationship changed scopes repeatedly as time
moved along.
This segment takes place sometime, several years later, sometime
during the first year of their high school careers, if you could call
it that. Both boys had grown, though not by leaps and bounds;
neither was an athlete, both content to be enthralled by Nintendo and
MTV and bad pop music on the radio. Harold's accent was weakened by
sheer effort, and he dealt with the rest of the issues as they came
to him. So there they were, the tightest possible friends you could
have, sixteen each and enjoying life to the fullest.
"Man, where'd you get reflexes like that?" Stu had been beaten
again at some nameless racing game, Harold grinning madly at high
high score flashing in huge, blocky letters on-screen. "What can I
say? I'm da predator, an' you aren't. An' you know what losin'
means!"
Stu grumbled as he stood up. "Yeah. I gotta go get you pizza
and soda. You're lucky I'm so nice to you, scavenger." He grinned,
that same oversized smirk that had gotten him as many friends as it
had punches in the arm or pillows in the face. He ducked one of
those as he slid out the door towards the kitchen.
The house wasn't exactly massive, but it did take time to get
things together, and struggling back upstairs with arms full of
pepperoni deepdish and Pepsi made things a bit slower. By the time
he got back, Harold had moved on to reading a magazine, the game
buzzing in 'attract mode' with no one paying attention.
"Here you...g..." The sentence never finished. Stu had leaned
down to offer Stu the plate with pizza, when he noticed exactly what
his friend was reading.
It was, undoubtedly and unabashedly, pornographic. The pages he
could see were filled with a handful of photos of men, and only men,
in a small smatterings of positions, doing things to each other that
were reserved for exactly these faked scenarios. "H...Harold...
where'd..."
"I found it in da bathroom. I thought...it said 'Joysticks', so
I thought it was a game magazine..." The hyena was absolutely
enamoured, slowly turning the page.
Stu was no less enthralled by the whole thing; while no one
could say he was a blank slate on sex, even of the gay variety--his
dad was hardly subtle about the whole thing--he'd never seen it in
action quite this way. It was certainly stunning, his throat dry and
a voice in the back of his head quite pleased that the mouse had worn
loose shorts that day.
The two sat next to each other, closely, and browsed the pages
as if it were a catalogue of fucking, or maybe some sort of
Encyclopedia Of Sex, to be learned from and observed. An hour
passed, maybe two, neither particularlly aware of the game music or
anything else, except themselves, right up until the last page
closed. Neither one had breathed, and then...they both did
simulatenously.
"W-wow," Stu stammered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat,
looking around the room. "Th-that was...neat..." He was at a loss
for words, brain fogged over by all the images he'd tried to absorb.
"S-so that's what...my father likes."
Harold was dead silent. He didn't look particularlly thrilled
or hurt or anything else, just stoic as he held the spankrag in both
hands. After moments passed, he finally cut the stillness, looking
over to Stu. "Stuart?"
Stu jumped, just a bit, blinking rapidly. "Wha?" He was lost
in thought, specifically all the details of what he'd seen.
The brown one of the pair looked right at Stu with big, golden
eyes, his own signature look to counter Stu's grin. "I...I t'ink I
pissed myself." If you could blush through thick layers of fuzz and
hair, Harold would have, deeply.
Stu blinked, fighting back the urge to laugh at that. "Didja?"
He looked down at Harold's shorts, thinking. "Looks more like you
spilled something. There's not enough..." His brain engaged
suddenly, almost with an audiable 'click'. "I know what you did!"
Caught off guard, Harold stammered a little. "I didn't spill
nothin'..." Stu was already flipping through the magazine again, the
contents still fresh in his brain, and showed off a picture of a lion
with his cock in his hand, right in the throes of orgasm, the camera
capturing what is commonly referred to as 'the moneyshot'. "You did
that," Stu shouted like it was some great discovery. "You...uh...
squirted."
Harold blinked now, and cocked his head sideways at Stu. "I
know, ya goof. I was...uh...tryin' t'hide it. 'sides." He canted
his head the other direction, curiously. "Ain'tcha nevah done that
yaself?"
In all of his sixteen years existing, he'd never once thought
to, and he was pretty blunt about that. "No...why...would I?" He
had a good idea, but for some reason it felt like something he didn't
want to talk about.
"Oh, cuz it's a good feeling...nothin' like it!" Without
missing a beat, he pulled his pants down, lifting out a dark brown
piece of flesh. Being a young man as he was, it wasn't of any
significant size, but it certainly was a penis. It had a smidge of
firmness to it, too, riding off the sheer energy floating through the
air. "See, ya kinda..." He stopped talking, and chose instead to
demonstrate, giving himself a bit of a stroke.
Stu looked less enthralled and more stunned, having a difficult
time finding room to breathe, much less the strength to get any air
in the first place. Even his loose boxers and shorts were becoming
unpleasantly warm as he watched the hyena, the best friend he'd ever
had, masturbate there. Instinct kicked in, and before he could
figure out exactly what he was doing, he had reached over and was
giving Harold's cock a few strokes.
Harold would have blinked, would have winced, would have done
something, if he hadn't been enjoying himself more than he ever had
before. Curiousity was ruling the day here in a joint measure;
passion and lust had certainly moved into the room and were
dominating two minds. All through the night they explored, touched,
felt each other. What should have been a simple sleepover was spent
not in pajamas watching television, but completely naked, trying to
copy some of the poses they'd seen in the magazine. Most were simple
enough, though a few called for more people or equipment they didn't
have. By the time the sun rose, both partners were completely worn
out, having moved to their own experimentation with what was
available.
At 8AM, Stu's mother knocked on the door. The plan had been to
take the boys to the mall that afternoon, to do a bit of shopping and
maybe pick up some Christmas pointers. No one answered, though, with
the exception of a few grunts and a mumble.
"Now, Stuart, we have plans for today." She popped the door
open, quickly, smiling in that angelic way mothers do when they're
about to ruin your dreams. "So get your..." All words stopped,
right then and right there, Stu's mother giving a little sigh. The
two boys were coupled on the bed, Stu on the bottom with his tail
pulled to one side. Harold had fallen asleep inside of him, though
judging from the appearance of Harold's own tail, he'd been mounted
once or twice. Her routine was quickly resumed--she'd been through
this same situation with her husband more than a few times. "I
suppose it had to happen eventually." She wandered around the bed,
avoiding making any co picking up a bit of laundry here and there.
"Stuart, darling, wake up. I know you can hear me. We have things
to do today, and you...need a shower."
Thusly began the second stage of the relationship between Stuart
and Harold: the sexual one. The rest of high school was a
combination of learning, preparing for college, and spending every
minute they could find away from prying eyes, enjoying each other's
company in a variety of ways. They became the gay studs of the
school, thankfully accepted so long as they kept their gropings to a
bare minimum during the school day. It was quite often, though, that
a student wandering to the bathroom during a passing period would
find a brown African immigrant on his knees, with his lover's pants
pulled down around his knees and a pale pink member being given a
tonguelashing; periodically, someone would wander out to the parking
lot during lunch and just barely see the rise and fall of a pair of
twany hips rising and falling as they pounded into the tailhole
beneath them; such was the way it went. The two were given room,
maybe more than they deserved, but everyone was enamoured by the
pair's love for each other, which simply manifested itself in carnal
activities.
Suffice to say, they were given time alone in the gym showers.
Part II: Changes In Structure
And such it went, for a few years. And then something would
throw a wrench in the gearing.
College was something Stu had always dreamed of, when he wasn't
fixated on Harold's body and what he could do with it. He wanted to
go there, to get his degree and make something of himself, and maybe
give back to his parents, who were not only paying for things but had
given his relationship their blessings many times over.
Harold had to raise concerns with that plan. He was not smart,
not particularlly at least; while he could hold his own, higher
education was not something he really felt at home with. It was his
family's nature to work as soon as possible, and he was afraid he'd
put it off too long already. With a bit of manipulation, a bit of
money, and a bit of mousebooty, the hyena accepted fate and moved
into the dormatory with Stu.
The accomodations were workable, if not lavish, and the two got
by perfectly alright. But Harold grew lonely, quickly. Stu was in
class, in the library, in the cafeteria studying. He didn't have
time to come by and even talk with his love, let alone do all the
things that marked their previous years together. He had no hobbies,
he had no friends, and without Stu around him, he felt exposed again.
Old fears were bubbling back up after a lifetime unnoticed.
There was an idea he had, something he thought he'd do, that Stu
wouldn't notice. A friend had suggested it, one of the few people
Harold could bring himself to talk to at all, and he really couldn't
see why he wouldn't carry through with it.
"It's a gym membership!"
Stu didn't get it, and couldn't even pretend to get it. It
didn't make sense. "Why? Aren't those things expensive?"
"$200 a year. I have it. What else do I buy? Your father
gives me a stipend, and I work a little." He sighed deeply, and
looked Stu down with those golden eyes. "I'd just like to try it.
It's something that I think might help. I can't stay here in the
room and masturbate all day. I've tried."
Under normal circumstances, that would have provoked at least a
giggle. Today, it got a weak smirk and a shaken head. "Okay, if it
makes you happy, you're more than welcome to try it. I hope you have
fun at it."
Harold was ecstatic, bouncing off the walls happy. It didn't
hurt that he'd already paid for a year at Bullgod's Gym and had been
once.
At first, no one noticed anything. Harold's paunch vanished, of
course, but that was to be expected. That ignored, he was still
short and scrawny Harold D'ogu. He worked and worked, harder and
harder, day after day, spending his nights pressed up against Stu,
weak from the effort. It certainly didn't stop their lovemaking,
though; his stamina had clearly picked up, and Stu was hard pressed
to keep up.
It was 1992. Word had arrived suddenly that Stu's father had
died in an accident, and when the driver arrived to pick him up,
there were no words spoken. Harold was welcome, but if he chose to
stay under the pretense of maintaining the dorm room ownership,
taking a class, and maybe looking for an apartment. While not being
completely dishonest, he was leaving out the biggest reason.
Bullgod's Gym was open 24 hours.
Stu returned three weeks later, after helping put his father's
affairs in order and helping his mother through greiving. He
returned to a devastated dorm room, the sheets unchanged, the dishes
dirty, and a stink of sweat lingering in the air. It was
uncharacteristic of Harold to let things go to pot like this, but
maybe the poor guy had been distracted or was bummed.
The room wasn't large enough to hide in, and the sound of
running water--the shower--was plainly audiable, echoing off the tile
and concrete walls. Stu sighed, deeply, and smiled. It would be
good to have Harold back, to brighten up his mood. He set down to
clean a bit, waiting patiently.
The water eventually shut off, signaled by the whimpering of old
pipes deep in the walls. Stu lit up, and sat down in a chair where
he could watch the bathroom door. "I'm hoooome!" he yelled, in that
stereotypical 50s sitcom voice, excited more than he had been in
years.
The booming response nearly blew his head off his neck in a
single stroke; instead of his little Harold coming out from the
bathroom, wrapped in a towel like always, glasses perched on his nose
and fogged up, a behemoth of a hyena stamped through the doorway,
legs like trees and a chest that would require several barrels just
to get across. Most notably, he was completely and totally naked, a
monster of a member--though suited to his nearly 8-foot-tall stature
--swinging a bit as he moved. Stu scrambled back in his chair,
completely unsure who this huge...thing...was.
Harold, whom it really was stomping through the room, stopped
suddenly. "What's wrong, Stu? You look like you sat on a tack." He
sat down on the bed, leaving the poor thing creaking in agony. "It's
almost like you don't know me."
"You don't even sound like Harold..." Stu walked over, and
looked closely into those golden eyes, the ones he knew well. "...
but you are. Gods, what happened to you?"
Harold beamed widely, smiling like a kid at Christmas. "I hit a
growth spurt! My trainer said it was going to happen, and it finally
did! I'm big!" His expression fell a little, to one tinted with
confusion. "You didn't get my emails? My messages? I had to modify
the bed a little to keep it from breaking...and...the shower is a
little different..."
Stu shook his head, hard, trying to clear it. "I haven't read
any email since I left. You may not have heard, but I was at a
funeral. I come back and I find out my lover, my best friend, he's a
goddamned monster."
"That hurt, Stu...what do you mean 'monster'? I'm what I always
wanted to be. I'm bigger than everyone!" He grabbed Stu with his
massive arms, crushing the mouse into a huge that would leave most
folks dead. It almost did, in this case.
"Let...me go....you..." Stu moved a bit, and got his breath
back. "This isn't natural, Harold. YOu're not just bigger...you're
taller, you're wider...you're...certainly better endowed...this isn't
a growth spurt, you've been cheating."
Ears were flattened at that last word, eyes slit a bit. "I
certainly have not. My trainer says that this is the natural me, and
it just hasn't come out until now. I'm still the same me on the
inside."
"But you're not the Harold I fell in love with. You're...I
wouldn't have been able to talk to you in school. We wouldn't have
been unnoticeable. You're...too big."
"Too big? There's no such thing as 'too big', and you know it."
Stu prodded Harold's 'equipment' with the toe of his shoe. "We
certainly would have never had that first night if you were that big
." Before he knew it, he was on the floor, seeing stars.
"Oh, I get it now. I'm too big for sex, so it's time to leave
me behind. What happened to 'unconditional love', Stuart? Did you
leave it behind in the car, when you drove home? Did it fall out of
the limo when we came home from Prom? Was it ever there?"
Stuart flinched, pushing back up to his feet. "You tell me,
Ahnuld. What's the point of me trying to love you at all? I'd be
like a goddamned...well, a mouse to you! You're twice my height,
Harold. I can't even hug you. My arms won't reach. I'm the small
one now, and you can take advantage of me like you apparently think I
took advantage of YOU." He pivoted on one heel, grabbing his jacket.
"I'm going to down to this Bullgod's Gym, and talk to your trainer.
You cheated, I know you did, and I'm going to get it all undone."
And with that, he was gone.
Bullgod's Gym wasn't difficult to find; it was only a massive
complex located in the hottest part of downtown. Failing that, you
could always follow the billboards, plastered about randomly, with
their giant smiling mascot, a monstrosity of a bull. Every where you
went, there he was, big Brahma. He was fake, really, some CGI'd up
creature to make people believe that 'at Bullgod's Gym, the power of
the bullgod will get you the body you've always wanted!' or something
like. It was crazy, but it certainly brought in the people.
The parking lot was crammed to capacity with a variety of people,
the thin, the buff, the flabby, and the sick, all trying to get to
that ideal physiogomy that everyone begs for. It made Stu sick,
really, all these people who were 'discontent' over something as
simple as bigger biceps or a tight ass.
Inside the gym was no better than outside, the whole thing one
long ostentacious eyesore. The facility was a mock 'temple', flooded
with gaudy gold trim, fountains, and giant statues of their
'spokesbull', Brahma. It wasn't an ill-equipped gym, no; there were
virtual square miles of equipment, aerobics rooms, and all the other
things that gymnasiums provide as part of the service.
"Welcome to Bullgod's Gym, there, li'l guy. Can I help you
out?" The clerk was perky, sure, but was another entry in a long
list of 'too big' people that Stu had been innudated in this
afternoon. The hippo had arms that even made Harold's look
diminuative, tied with breasts the size of tractor tires. It was all
Stu could do to not yell something about her parentage.
"Yes...um...a friend of mine, Harold...Harold D'ogu...he was
coming here. I think his trainer might have done something...
uncouth...to him." Stu was having trouble putting words together,
since he really had trouble believing all this mass was possible, yet
he was surrounded by it.
"Harold? African guy, hyena? Oh, he's a sexy one...you must be
Stu, then." Stu blinked, but before managing to say anything, the
clerk continued. "He talks about you all the time. Thinks the world
of you. You're good people, mmmhmm."
"This isn't about me," Stu cut in. "It's about Harold. I need
to see his trainer. I want to know what sort of drugs they spiked
him up with to make him that big so fast."
The clerk, apparently named Delphi, leaned over the counter,
pressing her bust within inches of Stu's face. Against taller
clientele, it would have been her face, but not here. "Listen,
bubby, we don't do any of that here at this gym. No ephedra, no
herbs, no bulk powder, no GHB or bovine growth hormone--not even to
the bovines--or anything else. I can smell a steroid from 5 feet
away. Now, if you'd like to make more accusations about the
establishment, I'm sure I can show you what sort of things it's done
for me."
Stu winced, backpedalling away from the wall of boob that was
threatening to envelop his head. "It's just not natural. I imagine
you worked for years to get that muscular. But Ha...ro..." He
stopped as a shadow drifted over his head, completely blocking out
the light. "Is this one creating a problem for you, Delphi? I will
have him removed at your request."
Delphi shook her head with a bit of a dismissive hand shake. "
No, no, he's fine. This is Harold's lovelight, Stuart. He wants to
talk to you about Harry...he swears you cheated, Brahma."
Stu's eyes grew like...well, Harold, and he snapped his face up,
ignoring the pain in his neck as he tried to figure out if that
really was the mascot himself. He honestly couldn't tell from this
angle, but those certainly were horns, and that certainly looked like
his torso. "There's no such person as Brahma. He's a computer-
genera--"
"Let us step into my office, and we shall discuss this matter
privately, Mr. Mouhsse. I think we have a great many things to deal
with, and Miss Oracle does not need you causing a scene at her
counter." Brahma simply picked Stu up at this point and carried him
off towards the locker room.
Moments later, the pair had passed beyond the showers and the
lockers, through a sea of naked bodies of all species, shapes, and
sizes, none concerned in the least to see a great minotaur trop
through the room, wearing a pair of running shorts and a shirt marked
'I AM THE BULLGOD' across the chest. Neither fit well, but that was
the least of Stu's worries as he was dropped with exceptional grace
into a chair.
"Give me one moment, Mr. Mouhsse, and we will discuss matters."
There was a bit of shuffling, and the sound of a drawer shutting,
before Brahma walked back over and stood in front of his desk, rather
undressed. It was certainly stark, but unrevealing; the minotaur had
a pelt which seemed designed for travel in the buff. "I do not enjoy
the concept of clothing, but the owners of this facility prefer that
I cover myself when amongst the public. I suppose that it would set
a bad example, hmmm." He shook his head. "Now, about you and..."
"Yeah, about me and Harold." Stu's initial anger had resurfaced
after being squashed flat by Delphi's prodigiousness, and he wasn't
particularlly being subtle. "I want to know, you robotic thing, what
exactly you did to Harold to turn him into a hulking mass of muscle."
Brahma didn't even blink; he didn't breathe fast, stutter, sigh,
look confused, or anything else. "To begin, I am not a robot. I am
not a computer generated image, I am not a 'fucking man in a
costume'. I am Brahma, I am a minotaur, and I am real. If you would
like to continue to believe I am a facsimile, I will make no further
effort to change your mind, but I would prefer if you could stay on
the topic at hand. Is that acceptable?"
Stu just shook his head, not believing a word of it. "Sure,
yeah, okay. Minotaur, right, right. Let's go over to Harold. What
in the world did you dope him up with? That...that GVE that Delphi
mentioned? Maybe you experimented on him?" There was more, but it
was rapidly growing irrational, with little noticeable coherence.
Again, the minotaur showed no signs of anything except life. "I
did nothing to your mate. There is a story here, and I believe you
do not know the details. Let me assist you in understanding, so that
you will perhaps accept Harold and his decision."
Brahma sat down on his desk. It obviously was just for show;
the chair was far too small for him, the phone was a fake, and the
computer was not plugged in to the wall socket. "This is a
gymnasium. People come here for a variety of reasons. To be
healthy, to gain muscles, to become an ideal that, perhaps, is
unattainable. Harold came here, several months, looking for the
answer to a question he had held in secret for his entire life."
"I don't believe that for a moment. He tells me everything.
There's no rea--"
The story continued, around Stu's protest. "He has always been
a small being, a 'runt' to use more common terminology. His
grandfather, he has told me, was a mighty man, a warrior of his
peoples in times gone by. This carried into Harold's father, and
into his children. Even his mother is, by your standards,
exceedingly large and muscluar. Do you know how tall his little
sister is, Stuart?"
"I...dunno, maybe four foot tall? She can't be that big, if
Harold is--"
"She is eight foot, ten inches tall, and masses nearly four
hundred pounds. Comparatively, Harold was four foot eight inches
when he first chose to exercise here, weighing a mere one hundred
twenty pounds. He is the outcast of his family, and his ancestral
home."
"And you couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? You took
pity on MY Harold, and--" Stu was ranting now, red-faced and
completely beside himself, fingers pressed into the arms of his chair
until his knuckles were white. Still, the storyteller was unphased.
"He worked very hard, trying to produce in himself that which he
has never had. It did not come, no matter the effort. So..."
Brahma shifted a bit, looking to the wall. "You observed Ms.
Delphi Oracle when you entered, did you not?" He paused, but did not
wait for an answer from the seething mouse. "When she arrived here,
she was in no state to even exist. Her weight was extreme, her bulk
in rolls down her chest and stomach. She arrived in a custom
wheelchair, Mr. Mouhsse, which was not unlike a forklift. Her legs
did not have the strength in them to lift her, let alone walk, and
her fingers were useless. She had come to me, Mr. Mouhsse, as being
with no future, through no fault of her own. Had she come to me as
someone gluttonous, lazy, or any other number of things, she would
have been turned away.
"Instead, I accepted her. I am not simply a trainer here, you
must understand. I am not simply a 'mascot', though I lend my image
to it as requested. I am a healer."
Stu blinked, slowly, trying to make things settle. "You mean a
different Delphi, right? That woman in the lobby could bench press
my car with one hand."
Brahma smirked the slightest little smirk that can ever be
smirked, hardly even noticeable. "No, Mr. Mouhsse, there is only one
Delphi Oracle. She had been brought to me by her physician, a man
who had exhausted his own abilities and was saddened to think that
Ms. Oracle would be lost. I could not allow that to happen, not to
anyone.
"I cannot simply touch a being and have them suddenly explode
into their perfect image. The effort is strenuous; many do not
finish. Ms. Oracle did complete her training, and has become a
person I am proud of. She was strong in spirit, and now she has a
body to reflect that. It is good to see her smile."
"This has NOTHING to do with Harold, and you know it. What in
the world did you do to him?"
"Mr. Mouhsse, have you not been listening? Harold wished to
have all the sorrows of his childhood as the 'runt' replaced with the
happiness of being what he felt he was destined to be. He is like
Delphi, but where Delphi was physically failing, Harold was
emotionally collapsed."
Stu scowled. "You can't possibly mean that. He had me. We
were in LOVE. You make it sound like that had no meaning."
Brahma looked back at Stu. "You were his anchor, yes. Had you
not appeared in his life as you did, he would likely have never
existed this long. But you cannot undo his basic fears, Stuart. He
has always been frightened..."
Stuart jumped to his feet. "I know how you can make this right.
You make ME as big as him, hell, maybe bigger, and we'll be alright
again."
The minotaur cocked an eyebrow, looking not unlike a Vulcan. "I
fail to see how this will work."
"It's simple, really. If I'm as big as him, I can love him
again, like we used to."
"You do not love him now that he is larger? I am not sure I un
--"
Stu clapped his hands together, sharply. "Hello, Brahma. I'm
not ASKING you, I'm telling you what to do. Make me big and buff,
and we'll have a patched up relationship, no problems."
Brahma sighed a bit. "You do not understand." He looked up.
"I can do this for you, but it will cost you, and I do not speak in
terms of money or property."
Delpi looked towards her security monitors as something flared
in the locker room, from Brahma's office. "I sure hope he knows what
he's doing. Otherwise, I'll deck that Stuart."
Part III: {} - Empty Solution Set
Harold sat, alone, in the darkened dormatory room. He hadn't
moved at all since Stu had stormed out hours before, still sitting
naked in a drying damp spot on the arched bed. There were no tears;
he knew Stu would be back, and that everything would work out fine.
They were meant to be together, that he had always believed, and it
would still be fine. It had to be.
The dull thunder came first. Harold looked up at the ceiling,
then down at the floor. One of those rooms with the excessively
overpowered stereo systems must be listening to something with quite
a bit of bass, he thought, and passed it on. But it was growing.
And then it stopped. Right outside the door. A hyena's heart
snagged inside his chest, old fears exploding out from under well-
secured doors, wrapping at the walls and pressing against the
latches.
"Harold? Are you in there?" It was Stu...but...it was wrong.
Harold didn't answer, clutching his legs to his chest. The bed crack
ed and splinted under the sudden added weight, but he took no notice.
The door opened quickly, and a hand, a huge hand reached in.
At first, the massive fingers had a hard time flicking the
lightswitch, finally meeting success after some degree of trial and
error. And in walked Stuart Mouhsse, wearing nothing but a pair of
torn jeans and a shirt that had given up the fight hours ago.
Or crawled. His head failed to clear the doorway without a
significant quantity of stooping, and even then he could not entirely
stand up. The floor creaked, the concrete construction having
difficulty holding up the newly overmassed mouse. "Hi, honey, I'm
home..." It was that same Ricky Ricardo soundalike he'd done a
million times, only distorted, too bassy, more like a giant calling
out to Jack than a lover calling his mate. With a grin, a huge thing
that spanned far too many inches, he stomped over to Harold. "I
fixed everything," he grunted. "It'll be alright."
It was not alright, Harold would have said, but he was too busy
backpedaling madly, trying to climb the walls behind the bed. His
ears flatted against his skull and the smell of urine filled the
room. With eyes as big as fists, he dove for the floor and ran into
the bathroom, locking himself in.
Stu was, to say the least, confused. "Isn't...isn't this
better?" He banged on the bathroom door, his equivalent of a knock,
rattling the hinges until they very nearly collapsed. "I thought you
liked big..."
The only sound, once the rattling subsided, was a dull whimper.
"Too...big...too...you're..."
With one final grunt, Stu pulled the door free, setting it
against the other wall. "I'm wh..." His voice died a thousand
deaths in that very moment. Curled up there, in the corner of the
bathroom, pressed into the tiniest ball an 8' hyena can make, was
Harold. He was sobbing, uncontrollably, his eyes twitching madly
from side to side, fingers digging bloody holes in his knees. "Too
...too...too..."
Stu leaned down, to pet Harold, to tell him things were fine.
And then the fist hit him. It took him entirely off his feet,
fingerclaws leaving bloody lines down his cheek. He laid there, not
moving, just watching Harold.
The hyena got up, slowly, after a moment, and left the room.
The sounds of a closet echoed gently through the air, then the
clicking of the door as Harold left silently.
And it was with that, Stuart passed out.
Hours went by before he regained consiousness, dried blood
spattering the cuts on his cheek. More than that, was the headache
and the swollen jaw; Harold apparently could throw a mean punch. Stu
dragged himself off the floor and staggered into the living room.
"For a man who loves, you do not listen well." Brahma was
sitting on the chair, simply watching Stu walk out. "I tell you that
you have no found the solution, and you ignore me entirely. I do not
know why I should help you any further."
The dialogue ceased there, Stu chosing instead to take the
easier line and simply punch Brahma in the head. It was a resounding
success in creating response, though it was not the cracking of a
skull but more the crunching of an entire hand's worth of fingers.
Brahma was as nonplussed as ever. "Are you finished now? Your
'love', as undeserving of the term as you are, has returned to the
gymnasium. I would highly suggest not going there, though."
Stu had already grabbed my keys and a coat which, really, was a
stupid gesture as his arm wouldn't fit through it. "Why not? You
don't want me to have my Harold back?"
Brahma grabbed at Stu's arm, and with no effort showing, dragged
in him down to the floor. "Because Delphi will most certainly snap
your head from your shoulders if you attempt, and I am most sure that
she could perform such a task without much strain. Now listen to me,
this time. I will not advance you a 'third chance'.
"Harold D'ogu was not simply a runt in a village full of giants.
He was an outcast, an unacceptable product of his parents. They
were cast in a dark light because of his very existence and because
they created him. He was not suited to be a member of their group,
even in these modern times; the world around him was built for giants
of strength and stature, and he was not.
"He escaped Africa not long before you met him in grade school,
removed from the country by an American family who had met him during
a stay there. A missionary group or somesuch. Until the moment he
was placed with you by fate, he had been brutalized. His father,
whether by anger or ignorance, mauled his own son regularly. He
denied him food, shelter, anything, in what was simply a misguided
attempt to make him stronger. When he arrived here, the general
public was no different, albeit less direct. It is difficult to be
...different, as I'm sure your father would have told you many times.
"You, Stuart Mouhsse, were a bit of divine intervention into an
otherwise bleak and pointless life. And here we sit, nearly fifteen
full years after, and you have abused the man you chose to protect.
You have created, in yourself, the very thing which Harold has
avoided forever. You are too large, too strong, too dominating. You
want him to stay smaller, for whatever reasons you might have. I do
not understand you. I never shall."
Brahma stood up, slowly, and started towards the door. "Suffice
it to say that you stand a very strong chance of losing him now. I
shall intervene your behalf, but do not believe that all shall be
made better." He crossed the threshold, then paused. "Mr. Mouhsse?"
Stu simply looked up, eyes red and damp.
Brahma touched his shoulder. "I suppose you would wish to have
your demands unmet. In one hour, you will be yourself again. I will
see you, whether you intend it or not, again." And he was gone.
Part IV: Starting Over From The Very End
Days passed. Stu did, as Brahma had told him, returned to his
normal size after a bit of time. He cleaned up the dorm room,
throwing out sheets and requesting a new bed. The days were lonely,
with nothing but the monotony of education to fill them; the nights
were worse, quiet and lonely. To call Stu a wreck of a being would
be putting things lightly.
He was thin, even moreso than usual. Food had lost its appeal,
and even if it hadn't, his stomach was in no state to hold it. He
could not sleep, could not concentrate, barely kept himself clean.
It was thought by many that drugs had claimed him, like so many
others around him.
Time came, and to no surprise, he had not succeeded in college,
as he had not in romance. There was no place to go now; his mother
had given much of the family fortune away to charity and scaled down
her existence after being widowed, and was in no position to have him
around. With no brothers and no sisters, he was very aware of how
simply alone in all of it he was.
Oh, there had been attempts. He had tried all the methods he
knew to find a new love, most of which ended in a man, yes, but not
anything on the long-term basis. Being easy had made things better
for a while, using the warm sensation of a well-fucked ass or an
expert oral ministration to make himself temporarily smile. But it
was all transitory. It never lingered past a day. No one ever hung
around past a few hours. There was no love in the room.
He grew older. 20 years old had come and gone, and now 25 was
past, with 30 creeping up the doorstep. What did he have to show for
it? A black book of 'easy riders' that warranted admiration from
those who had no idea why he was that way. A sore ass, a tired
expression, and a two pack a day smoking habit. Bad clothes, a bad
apartment in the bad part of town, a bad car that ran badly. A bad
reputation with a great many places. No drinking problem, and the
drugs had been kind enough to leave him be; really, a situation that
was neither unliveable nor desirable. Just mediocrity, day in, day
out.
He wondered, daily, where Harold was. He still dreamed of the
hyena he'd met in the hallway at Fairchild Junior High, back in
school. That love, once he'd realized where he'd lost it along the
way. It was all he wanted back in his life, and there was no way
he'd get it, not at this point.
Stu made a decision, as December rolled around. It was time to
let this all go. What was left to worry about? He had no
associations, no relatives, no...no lovers of any consequence. If
Christmas meant that it was time to sacrifice for your sins, then let
the packages be unwrapped.
And there he was, Christmas Eve, sitting in a bar drinking cheap
beer he wasn't sure he could pay for. The plan was to get himself so
stupid drunk that he wouldn't be able to drive home safely. It was a
good plan; it eliminated him from feeling any guilt while he was
doing it, so if he ran over the median and killed a few five year
olds in a mini-van, then so be it. He wasn't going to sweat the
details.
It would have worked, too. If not for those damn Christmas
Cabs. Before he knew it, it was 11:30 that night, and he was in the
back of a cab with a beer buzz that was rapidly fading.
"Where you live, bub?" The driver was a big man, fat like a
balloon, a gorilla chomping a cigar the size of a billyclub.
"Ssssseventeen Cartridge...Cartway...Safeway...Cartwright
street. Apartment ooooone...seven. Yeah. The one with the
cardboard box in front. I live in the box. Haaaaah hah
hahahahahaha...that's my summer home! Yesh!" Stu wobbled and
laughed maniacally.
"Uh huh. 17 Cartwright? Kay. Youse jus' sit yaself on back
dere, an' get some sleep. S'gonna be a loooong drive."
Stu needed no help. He was out already.
The cab pulled into a half-empty driveway, crunching snow under
its tires, marking its arrival with a signature sound. The driver
slid out, puffing on a new stogie, and went around back. "He's out,
boss."
A familiar voice came through on the cabbie's radio. "Bring him
inside anyway, Sid."
There was no energy wasted as the silverback hauled Stu over his
shoulder and wheeled him inside like a floursack. "Here youse go.
He was right where ya said he'd be."
"That will be fine, Mr. Calinto. Set him on the couch." Stu
could barely make out voices now. He was coming to, but...he didn't
know where, exactly. But there was that voice...that was really...
"Brahma?"
Stu's vision was mostly fuzzy lights, dancing around his skull.
But that damn voice rang out like a bullet through his brain. Every
word was clear, completely piercing his intoxication. "Wh...where am
I, Brahma?"
"You're at the gymnasium. Bullgod's Gym. I told you we would
meet again, did I not? And I do not lie."
Stu tried to sit up, having limited success without the
assistance of a big hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Brahma...now...
about...well, what am I doing here?"
The minotaur was exactly like he'd been that first time, sitting
on his desk with nothing on. The taxi driver--apparently Sid, Stu's
brain filled in for him before wandering off to watch more pretty
lights--was next to him. "To celebrate Christmas, I believe. It is
nearly that time of year, is it not, Cid?"
"Already is, boss. S'two in da mornin'."
Brahma shrugged a bit. "Time. I do not understand it very
well. But Christmas it is!"
"Don't yell," Stu moaned, clutching his forehead. A glass was
placed near his side, with a few pills next to it. They were
swallowed, with lots of water, a bit lost down a soiled shirt. "
Thanks, Bra..."
Stu squinted. "Yer over there. And that's Sid. And I don't
hear Delphi. Who's that?" He pointed upwards."
"How fast can you forget a man, Stuart? It's like I never met
you!" Big hands reached down, quite suddenly, and grabbed Stu
entirely, smashing him against a mostly bare chest. It was all he
could do to not throw up against the rigid pectorals before he passed
out again.
"He does this often?" was the last thing he heard, and he
couldn't tell who, exactly, said it. Though it sounded like...
Stu's nose woke up before the rest of him. He smelled all sorts
of things--talcum powder, sweat, Harold, metal, expensive carpeting,
the cou...
He popped up suddenly, or at least tried to. A pair of brown
arms, each sporting their own endorsement from The Popeye Society,
held him quite firmly in place. "I know these arms," he mumbled.
"I've seen them before. Hell...I've smelled them before." He manged
a look up, fighting the soreness of nearly every muscle he had, and
there they were.
Those golden eyes.
"Welcome back, you. Didja miss me?"
Stu nearly fainted, again, but for once that holiday managed to
hold himself awake. "Kiss me, you stupid fool, kiss me!" They
liplocked awkwardly, Harold's muzzle more than Stu could handle, but
at this point in time, he didn't really seem to care. Something made
him happy, made his head spin, and it wasn't the alcohol or the
oncoming hangover. It was the smell of hyena all around him, the
look of the pelt, and those eyes.
The afternoon was spent embraced. Stu refused to let go of his
big lug, even when it came time to eat or when other things called.
If Harold went, there Stu was. Harold laughed it off, letting it go
as 'just one of those Christmas things'. The rest of the staff at
the gym seemed pretty happy with it, too. And who could deny it was
a cute display, a muscle-bound hyena wandering about in cotton gym
shorts and a tanktop with a grey mouse in his arms, or up on his
shoulder? Delphi swore up and down that she even saw Brahma smile.
When they weren't clinging to each other or wandering about the
closed facility, it was catch-up time, Harold talking about returning
to Africa to prove that he, after all, not the runt, and to meet his
nieces and nephews, already showing signs of that latent family
strength, and to finally show his father that his spirit was
indestructable. Stu related his own stories, not nearly as happy as
Harold's, stories about boyfriends that had robbed him, muggings,
losing the house, his mother's death in South America, when her
charity effort was destroyed by rebel guerillas, about the horse he
met one afternoon who left him with a check for thousands after a
one-night-stand...a whole slew of things that weren't pleasant, but
they were Stu's life these days.
"And there you have it. I've been a lot of unpleasant things,
Harold, and I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't take me back."
The big hyena would hear nothing of it. "At that, I love you
more than ever. I have figured something out about our relationship,
Stuart."
An arm wrapped itself loosely around Stu's waist. "Since we
met, you protected me from what wanted to hurt me. Now, I shall
protect you from your own demons. Let me pull you up."
There was much applause; Harold wasn't much of a speaker, but he
had his moments where, just by speaking honestly, profound things can
be said. Stu locked the hyena--no, his hyena--in a kiss to end all
kisses, eyes closed and and hands on the mighty tendons.
Brahma coughed a bit, before Delphi nudged him in the ribs. "
Maybe we should give them a little, y'know, 'alone time'." She
started dragging Brahma out by the arm. "But this is my office...and
what alone time? They're together..." He could be heard complaining
all the way out into the hallway.
"So now what, Harold?" He drew gentle lines through the
chestfur he was laying on, the both of them having given up on
clothes as soon as the room was theirs.
"What did we do the first time we got intimate? We made love to
each other for an entire night. I would like to do that again."
Both men made no efforts to hide how exactly happy they were to see
each other, though the scale of things was dramatically different.
Stu grinned, giving a hyenanipple a twist. "Oh, you'd like
that, wouldn't you. Get a kick out of sticking that monster up my
ass, eh?" He winked. "Normally, I'd say you'd never fit. But
that's been proven wrong lately. Heck...you're not nearly as big as
Heschel...but then...I couldn't walk after that for a month." He
turned around on Harold's belly, giving his member a stroke. "For
good luck. This is how we started, remember?"
Harold gave a bit of a moan, smiling after. "Your mother came
while I was still in you. Quite a sight, I imagine."
Stu licked the cockhead just a bit. "I have photos. Now let's
shut up and fuck."
When the noise finally died down, and most of the staff had
left, Brahma and Delphi wondered what had become of the pair of
lovers they'd reunited that morning.
"Maybe they're in here," Brahma wondered allowed, as he opened
the door. Delphi's face lit up, blushing from cheek to cheek.
"Um, Brahma...they are." She pointed in, and the minotaur took
a moment to peer for himself. There on his couch were Stuart Mouhsse
and Harold D'ogu, fast asleep, with Harold still intimately entangled
in his lover's backside. Judging from the condition of Harold's
pelt, that was not the only thing they'd done.
Brahma, completely emotionlessly, shut the door. "Let us leave
them be."
He looked back as he walked away. "They have no plans today."
--- THE END ---
Thanks for reading through to the end. I understand that it's an
exceedingly long piece of work, and it's not exceptionally sexual, but
it certainly has too much in it for a non-adult newsgroup. It went
until I felt it should stop, so there you have it.
Comments welcome by email. Thanks again.