Mister Universe
{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: White Lion | |
{{#ifeq: White Lion | ||
Author: White Lion
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{{#ifeq: White Lion | |
Author: White Lion |
Author: White Lion
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{{#ifeq: White Lion | |
{{#ifeq: White Lion | | Authors: ' |
Authors: White Lion
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{{#ifeq: White Lion | |
Authors: White Lion |
Author: White Lion
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
“I want to be Mr Universe!” cried Curtis, taking a deep swig from the bottle. Only a few hours earlier he had bought this strange drink from the infamous old man on the hill. He’d promised it would make his dreams come true. Any wish – it would grant, but only once and it couldn’t be undone.
Curtis thumped down the bottle of Dream Maker on the table, and turned towards his girlfriend Sarah.
“So much for its poxy claim to make you into your greatest desire. I want to be a candidate for Mr Universe – but I’m more like Mr Puny-verse!”
Sarah tried to comfort him.
“I love you just the way your are.” she said.
“Thanks, but I’m tired of being a skinny geek” said Curtis, still waiting for something to happen. He looked down at his unathletic body. At his loose clothes, covering his scrawny frame unevenly - like an old scarecrow.
“This is hopeless. Nothing is gonna happen” mused the youth, as he brushed his hair out of his eyes.
“Give it time,” said Sarah patiently. “The old man said that results took a while.”
“Yeah, right. That was seven quid I forked out on this muck.” moaned Curtis, as he picked up the bottle for a second swig. As he raised his arms, he felt a slight tingling running up and down his body. Was it about to start? The power and strength he so desperately wanted? Suddenly a terrible pain struck his stomach. Curtis clutched his waist, and snarled.
“Hey, are you all right?” cried Sarah, rushing over to her boyfriend’s side. She put a comforting hand on his back. But something felt strange. The muscles were twitching under the fabric. There was no denying it - Curtis was changing. Growing!
Sarah watched, mesmerized, as his chest slowly filled out his shirt. His shoulders, back, legs, everything grew progressively larger. Thicker. Deepening shadows indicated a pair of ominously muscular pectorals. Curtis' thickening legs filled out his jeans very quickly. Within seconds, they'd risen past his ankles, engorged by swelling thighs and calves – and getting progressively tighter and tighter. Sarah rubbed his legs. They were rock hard, and the muscle development was obvious. His quads looked like those of pro-football player, and they were still growing.
“Holy Shit Curtis! It’s working” squealed Sarah
Curtis’ chest was getting wider, and freakily muscular. He watched the outline of his pecs balloon inside his shirt – pulling it even tighter. He couldn't believe it! He was turning into a hunk, just like he had always wanted, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would happen. Especially like this. Enrapt, Curtis watched his body press even tighter against his clothes. He could feel himself developing. Becoming bigger. Stronger!
By now, Curtis's chest had widened just as incredibly as it had mounded up. Although he couldn't feel them, there was no mistaking those monster pecs in his shirt, pulling it taut, fighting the buttons that kept it closed. He caught a glimpse down inside the shirt; all he saw an endless expanse of muscular flesh. Bulging! Growing!
Curtis then felt his arms being lifted out to the sides; pushed away by bulked-up lats, that packed the seams of his shirt. His melon-sized shoulders followed suit, swelling, cramming his sleeves. His traps surged up, straining the collar. He swooned when he noticed his forearms. The former spindles were so tightly packed into his sleeves, he thought they would burst. He regarded the contorted fabric, pulled skin tight across those multitudinous bulges.
His swelling legs stuffed his jeans like big blue sausages. They had already ridden up to mid-calf level. Curtis strained over his protruding pecs to look at his mighty running machines. He could make out every single striation and curve of his outrageous quads now filling his tight jeans. His feet too, felt uncomfortably tight in his training shoes.
"Bigger! I want to be bigger!" bellowed Curtis, and he picked up the bottle of Dream Maker – and gulped down the rest in one swig. He was really enjoying getting huger and freakier. The simultaneous sensations of his chest lifting, his back spreading, and his traps, shoulders and arms pumping huge was just more than he could take...
"OH YEAHHHHH!" cried Curtis.
One by one, the stitches holding his shirt together began to give way. A button popped off here, a seam over there, a hole ripped down the back. His shirt screamed out in agony as it started shredding from the inside. This was perfect. Curtis was now becoming the object of his dreams. His biceps were now as big as some men's legs. How much bigger could he grow?
"C'mon, show me how big! " thought Curtis.
With a vengeance, his mountainous pecs surged up ominously below his chin. His glorious shoulders and traps ruptured the sleeves, splitting them with a sickening rip. Curtis stared at his mounding biceps, savouring the straining sounds of the fabric as his developing muscles mercilessly blasted through the sleeves. Curtis' triceps hung like juicy slabs of meat, popping the remaining threads that encircled his monstrous appendages. Lifting his arms above his head, Curtis flexed them in a typical bodybuilder pose.
Slowly, Curtis felt his feet being crushed by his shoes. He strained over his colossal chest, just in time to see the stitching around his sneakers tear apart. The laces snapped one by one, quickly followed by the bursting of his white socks – revealing a pair of beautifully muscular, bare feet. Raising his head to the ceiling, Curtis let out loud of roar of ecstasy!
Suddenly, his attention was grabbed by a creaking sound from his legs. Curtis looked down to see his legs about to erupt from his jeans. The rivets started to pop off like small bullets as his terrifying quad development now reached the bursting-point. His thighs and calves bulged sadistically, splitting the seams lengthwise, prying open the skin-tight jeans. Indeed, his legs seemed liked animals themselves, annihilating every trace of blue that tried to cover their stunning magnificence. Ragged strands of denim flew up into his face as his legs grew and grew. With a loud crack, the backside split open to expose his boxer shorts.
Curtis felt his hideously hulking traps within an inch of his ears now. The gargantuan mass of his chest obliterated the view of his feet, even when bending over. His Herculean arms hung at what seemed like forty-five degree angles from his fantastic lat spread.
Curtis's boxer shorts were the last to go, contorted beyond recognition between his Olympian abs and the tops of his luscious thighs. The elastic was stretched to the absolute limit, and refused to give anymore. With a painful snap, they relinquished to Curtis's overripe behind.
“Oh My God!” squealed Sarah, in a mixture of terror and excitement.
“Yes, I suppose I am!” bellowed Curtis in a voice many times deeper than his old one. Curtis rubbed his huge hands over his muscular body – feeling the raw power locked inside his impressive physique. This was magic! This was perfect!
Suddenly, Curtis felt the cold floor of the room drop away from his feet. He looked down to see that he was floating above the ground.
“Hey, cut that out!” squealed Sarah, fearfully.
“I’m not doing anything!” boomed Curtis, feeling unnerved. “No Mr Universe’s I know can fly!”
“Did you ask to be superman?” asked Sarah, still not quite sure of her own sense of reality anymore. What had started as a semi-prank had become all too real. Slowly, Curtis floated to the ceiling. Strange lights were flickering around him. Dancing like fairies.
“Geez, I feel strange – even more than before!” moaned Curtis as the lights grew even brighter. He crawled his way across the ceiling towards the window – desperately trying to open the latches.
“What are you doing?” asked Sarah. “You can’t go out there, you’re naked!”
“M-must get OUT!” roared Curtis, his eye’s burning red.
Sarah stared in shock as the lights began to prick in and out of Curtis’ skin, causing it to blotch and swell. He just managed to open the latches before his once mighty body became too fat and flabby to fit through.
“NNNOOOO!” shrieked Curtis as he watched his all to brief period as a real hunk disappear. He was now surrounded by a spinning spiral of light, that pulled at his sides – causing them to balloon outwards and glow
Rushing after him, Sarah looked out of the window to see Curtis still rising upwards and outwards, until he looked like a glowing zeppelin in the afternoon sky. Straining hard against the noise of the traffic, she could just make out the strangled sound of “I love you!”
Curtis continued to drift away, becoming nothing more than a bright spot on the horizon. Then nothing.
Sarah was alone in the house, with an empty bottle of Dream Maker potion on the table. Distraught, she picked up the bottle and read the label. In very small print below the main text, there was a message that read:
WARNING: Be specific for what you wish for. Once made, there is no going back!
“Oh Curtis.....” sobbed Sarah as she dropped the bottle onto the ground.
That night, the news reporter stopped his scheduled item to bring a sudden newsflash. Astronomers at the Isaac Newton Observatory in the Canaries have just reporter a previously undiscovered comet, speeding towards the outer solar system. Where it has come from remained a mystery. Perhaps it had been obscured by the Sun on a strange orbit. It had been name Vorspiel 234 after the German astronomer who had spotted it.
Sarah hugged a cushion, as a tear rolled down her cheek. Curtis truly had become a Man of the Universe.
THE END!