Mr. Punyverse (Part 1) (Patreon)

[muscle theft]

Big Nick Walker–arguably the most thickly built bodybuilder on the planet–lumbered down the ramp out of the private jet with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The wide-framed brute, wearing a purple track suit, stared around at the tropical environment with a bemused smile. “A hundred grand for a guest pose,” he chuckled to himself as he took in the cloudless blue sky and the cool ocean breeze, “and I get a free vacay out of it? Awesome.”

A thin man with a goatee held a sign with Nick’s name on it. “Mr. Walker!” he said, shaking the bodybuilder’s hand. “I’m Wyatt. I’ll be your patron while you’re here for the competition.” Wyatt’s hand was dwarfed by Nick’s meaty paw. Nick was careful not to break the poor guy with his grip.

“Great,” Nick said. “I guess I’m still a little confused about what’s going on here…”

Wyatt waved Nick on, opening the door to a limousine. “Just what it said in your contract, of course. You did read before you signed, right?”

Nick smiled. He’d read that he’d be making $100,000, but skimmed the rest. It had seemed like usual contract stuff. Two-day commitment was all he got out of it. Airfare included. “Yeah, I read it.” He squeezed his big body into the limo, amazed at how spacious it was on the inside. He helped himself to a bottle of Pellegrino. He wondered why the limo wasn’t moving until he saw Wyatt open the door again.

Hunter Labrada, wearing a tank top and blue shorts, chuckled as he forced his massive body through the relatively small limo door. “Fuck, Nick, I had no idea your ass would be here!” he said. The two beasts bumped their massive fists together.

Nick shifted uneasily in his seat. He had no doubt in his mind that he was bigger than Hunter, but the fact that Hunter had so much tanned muscle showing while Nick was fully covered made him regret wearing so many clothes. “Hunh,” Nick said. “Thought I’d be the only bodybuilder here.

“Me too,” Hunter said. “Two guest posers at a competition?” Nick said, scratching his wide chest. The limousine took off and the bulky men got as comfortable as they could for the ride, spreading their thick legs in the spacious limo cabin.

“Never heard of the competition, either,” Nick said. “Figured it was some weird corporate thing.”

Hunter stroked his beard. “Yeah, you read the name of it? ‘Mr. Punyverse’? This some sort of comedy show or some shit?”

Nick and Hunter looked at each other suspiciously, then toward the partition separating them from their driver. Nick poked the intercom button with a plump finger. “Yo, Wyatt, what’s the deal with this competition? Can you fill us in?”

“I suggest you both relax, gentlemen,” Wyatt said. “Honestly, with all due respect, you don’t need to worry about the details right now. Once we’re there and settled, you guys will just do what big bodybuilders do. No sweat. And at the end of the weekend, one of you will be VERY happy.”

“One of us?” Hunter asked, but the intercom had cut off.

The building they arrived at was on a sprawling estate, but other than uniformed staff, the facility seemed empty. In the atrium of the building–was it a hotel? An event center?–they saw another massive physique. Both bodybuilders immediately recognized Akim Williams. He stood with his arms folded, looking as confused as each of them.

“The fuck?” Akim said as he shook their hands. “Are we gonna have more bodybuilders at this show than competitors or what?”

Wyatt winked at the three men. He looked waifish next to the three humongous athletes. He was only as tall as their shoulders. Each of the men had a single quad the same width as Wyatt’s waist. “Let’s just wait for the others…” Wyatt urged.

“Others?” Nick and Hunter asked in tandem.

As if on cue, the door of the building opened and Antoine Vaillant, wearing a bandana and mirrored sunglasses, and Derek Lunsford, with so much bulk on his shorter frame that his gait had become a waddle, entered.

“WHOA!” Antoine shouted as he saw the others. “It’s like bodybuilderpalooza in here!”

Derek gave a friendly one-handed bro-hug to each of the men. “We should have our own little competition while we’re here! After this ‘Punyverse’ thing is over.”

“Yeah, Wyatt, enough with the secrecy,” Nick barked. “Tell us what this is all about.”

A blonde woman in a blue uniform approached, handing each of the men a key card. Wyatt gestured to the elevator at the far end of the atrium. “Get your stuff set up in the rooms, then we’ll get the show underway. When you’re ready, just press the button in the elevator marked with a star. That will take you to the event.” Wyatt strode confidently away then, leaving the five enormously built men with too many questions.

Nick was so taken aback by the comforts of his room–the spacious shower (a must for a man his size), the heated toilet seats, the in-room jacuzzi–that he nearly forgot that five of them had been ushered together under strange pretenses.

He found a small pouch hanging by the door with a tag on it: “Please wear this to the competition,” the tag read. Nick pulled the drawstring on the pouch and examined its contents. “Fuck,” he said. The silky garment that tumbled out looked like an eyepatch at first. In reality it was a set of bright yellow posing trunks, but they looked so small he was certain they’d snap if he tried to squeeze a single leg into them. He chuckled and put them in the pouch, grabbing a set of his own trunks instead. “Must have gotten the size wrong,” he thought as he slid his posers on, adjusting his big manhood before pulling his track pants on over them.

In the hallway, Nick stopped just before crashing into a thinly built gray-haired gentleman in jeans, a plaid shirt and a cowboy hat. “Whoa there!” the man said. The lines in his face suggested he was in his sixties. “Almost smashed me to a pulp, big guy!”

Nick blushed and shrugged his huge shoulders. “Damn,” he said. “I kind of thought there was nobody else around here. Whole island seemed deserted from the second we got there.” The sight of another person, other than his bodybuilding peers, was a relief.

“I’m Chet,” the man said, extending a frail hand Nick feared crushing in his own. “I’m one of the Mr. Punyverse judges. I just came up to walk you to the competition!”

Nick gave the man a polite smile as they walked together to the elevator. The man kept eyeing up his physique in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. “Normal” people usually stared, but there was an extra level to the man’s gaze that Nick usually only found from gay men or smaller foiks yearning for his size. Nick kept his distance in the elevator as much as he could. Chet punched the “star” button and they were on their way.

“We’re still all really confused,” Nick said. “This isn’t what I thought it was going to be.”

“Well, this is the inaugural Mr. Punyverse competition,” Chet said, his eyes focused on Nick’s bulging arm. “It took a lot to put together, too.”

“So, what, is it… a bunch of small guys competing? And me and the other guys are there to, what… hand out trophies or something?” Nick’s brow furrowed as he struggled to work through the logistics.

Chet leaned his head back and chuckled. “Ah, not quite, Mr. Walker. You and your bulky friends will be COMPETING for the title of Mr. Punyverse. I see you got your competition outfit there.” He tapped the tiny pouch in Nick’s hand.

Nick was more confused now. A hundred grand for five of them to compete–and they got paid BEFORE the competition? But what was the competition? Would the smallest of them win? Derek was the shortest, but by no means “small,” while Antoine might have been considered the least bulky despite his excellent development. One thing was certain: Nick was, in no way, the “puniest” of their giant crew. He would most certainly be losing.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Nick hesitated as Chet bounded cheerfully out. He waited for Nick to shuffle his big body along behind him.

They walked out into a huge auditorium. The other men were already there, up on the stage, each of them accompanied by another, smaller man. Wyatt gestured to the crew already gathered as Nick climbed the stairs with Chet.

“Ah, Nick, glad you could join us,” Wyatt said. “You’ve already met Chet, one of our judges.” He introduced the other four men who were a mystery to him. Standing next to Antoine was a shaven-headed tattooed man named Ira. Hovering near Akim was a lazy-eyed blonde with a shell-necklace named Cruise. Next to Hunter was a small Asian man with bright green hair. Staring at Derek’s bulk with wide-eyed amazement was a pale wisp of a man named Clark, thick glasses rattling on his face.

“So, where’s the audience?” Akim asked, gesturing toward the rows of empty seats.

“This will all be broadcast,” Wyatt said. “We’re recording all of it, especially this next part.”

“What do you want us to do?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, this little suit you left in my room wouldn’t fit on my left nut!” Antoine said, holding forth a miniscule slip of shiny purple material.

“Well, if you larger gentlemen will all stand over there,” Wyatt said, gesturing toward a green circle marked out on the stage, “and if the judges would stand over here…” Wyatt pointed at a red circle. The men all arranged themselves as he’d directed. “Now, our inaugural Mr. Punyverse competition begins… now!”

The green circle beneath the bodybuilders suddenly lit up, bathing them in bright verdant light. Nick’s whole body twitched as the light hit him. It was like being in a tanning but, something truly radioactive about the rays blasting his body that he couldn’t look directly at. He felt warmth throughout him, all the way to his bones. His body shuddered–and suddenly his pants slid off his body, pooling at his feet.

He was shocked to find his tight shirt had somehow enlarged, the arms reaching all the way to the floor. It felt too heavy to wear–he was swimming in it! Nick blinked as the light faded. He felt exhausted… and his fellow athletes seemed to have vanished. Four scrawny men were standing around him, blinking in confusion. It took Nick a moment to recognize that one of them had Antoine’s bandana, now so large it covered his eyes. Another wore Hunter’s tank top like it was a dress. The black runt near him stood right were Akim had been, yanking up what were clearly Akim’s shorts (although far too big for the man’s skinny legs and petite waist).

Across the stage, they heard clothes tearing and men grunting as five brand-new bodybuilders laughed and flexed, admiring their muscles as if they were seeing them for the first time. One was bald and tattooed (but positively hulking with size). Another was an Asian man with bright green hair built like a tank and bouncing his absurdly large pecs. Nick noticed the gray-haired brute was flexing arms Nick recognized; he knew their exact shape, the arc of every curve and the depth of every cut because they matched Nick’s arms exactly.

Except Nick’s arms didn’t look like that anymore.

“And thus, our Mr. Punyverse competition begins!” Wyatt said, clapping. “Good god, our audience is going WILD at the opening ceremonies. We’ll be playing that video on a loop all weekend!”

“What the hell happened?” It was the man Nick assumed was Akim speaking, but it wasn’t Akim’s voice. The little pipsqueak had a high-pitched sound lacking all of Akim’s confidence.

“Wait… this isn’t… possible!” This was Antoine, with his thick french accent, but the scrawny wimp spoke in a reedy squeak.

“Let’s get that ALL out of the way,” Wyatt said as the newly grown bodybuilders continued to admire their sudden size. “This IS possible, this IS happening, and we have a show to do. If our competitors will please retire to the changing room and slip into their competition suits, we can get things underway!”

“Fuck this!” Akim said, stomping a tiny foot down on the stage. “I’m not fucking going anywhere! You guys put me back the way I was NOW!” The outburst had clearly been intended to intimidate, but the delivery was closer to a twerp having a tantrum. Wyatt approached confidently. Nick shivered as he looked UP at the man he had towered over before.

“You’ll be doing EXACTLY what we ask,” Wyatt said, grabbing Akim’s shoulder roughly, “or you get stuck like this forever. Understand?”

Akim’s fight died instantly. He nodded weakly and shuffled toward the door at the back of the stage, dragging his oversized clothes along with him.

Nick wanted to fight, but he’d never felt so puny over overpowered in his adult life. Not only did the average-sized Wyatt seem HUGE to him now, but the “judges” all seemed like impossibly massive freaks. What hope did they have to stand up for themselves now? Nick knew he was going to have to go through with this competition, but how was he going to win without his hard-earned muscles?