The Journal pt. 7
The Journal 6
Artwork included with the generous permission of Viste. His webpage is worth visiting for many more erotic sketches. He is an accomplished artist with great taste in subject matter!
Many thanks to CMBigDog for all his help with writing, plotting, and suggestions for improvement!
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Jerry was driving through a distant city on a summer trip. Or, rather, he would’ve been driving, had his car not broken down outside a grocery store late that night. It was a cool night, but he’d hadn’t yet rolled up the windows; he was more concerned about getting the car started. He turned the key several times. The lights dimmed as the starter cranked the motor over, but the motor didn’t catch. He tried a few more times, the lights weren’t as bright as they had been a few minutes before. Frustrated, he switched the key off and slammed his hand against the wheel. He really needed to write himself a better car. He had just pulled The Journal out of his backpack when a voice spoke right next to his ear.
“Car trouble?”
Jerry nearly jumped a foot.
He looked over to se a beefy, bearded face looming rather close. A Harley-Davidson bandanna covered the man’s head, and a black tee-shirt merged the rest of his body with the gloom. “Uh...uh...” Jerry stuttered.
“Yeah, I thought so...I could hear you cranking it over from around the corner. Tell ya what - pop the hood and I’ll check it out.”
Jerry did so, and the man stood up. He looked to be about six feet tall, 270 pounds, a strong but beefy build, with a well-trimmed beard. Short dark hair peeked out from the front of the bandanna. Boots clomped against the asphalt as he moved to the front of the car and lifted the hood.
Jerry was staring forward when a loud whisper from the front of the car startled him. It was a different voice than the one he’d just heard. “You know you should’ve be doing this while you’re undercover!”
“Look, the kid’s car broke down and this isn’t a good neighborhood. Let me use your flashlight. They’re miles away and it’s the end of our shift anyway, I’ll just fix it quick and - there it is - we’ll be on our way.”
Two men stepped around to the drivers’ side of Jerry’s car. The newcomer, wearing a blue police uniform, was shorter than his friend at about 5’8”, and a muscular 180 pound build. A goatee, the same brown-red as his hair, framed the mouth that said, “Hey, kid, it should start now. Hurry up so we can get out of here.”
“Oh, relax,” said the taller man. “This was my last night undercover anyway. I’m back to normal patrol tomorrow. Crank it up, kid.”
Jerry turned the key - the car revved to life, headlights glowing bright in the late evening.
“Thanks, uh...officer...?” said Jerry.
The shorter man extended his hand. “Officer John Flannery. And this here’s my partner Rick Scar - he was undercover tonight.” John indicated the man in biker gear with a nod of his head.
Jerry shook the proffered hands and said, “I really appreciate the help.” His eyes fell on The Journal, which was sitting on the passenger seat next to him. He picked it up and grabbed a pen from the center console. “Is there...uh...anything I can do for you guys? You know, to say thanks?”
The men chuckled. “We’re good, thanks.” said John. “I for one just want to go home - it’s been a long, and late night.”
“No kidding,” Rick chimed in, resting an elbow on the roof of Jerry’s vehicle. “I’d like to see us back on a normal daytime shift, I hate working late like this.”
“Yeah, well I’d like to see one of those drug dealers choke on the bags of coke they swallow when I show up,” said John. “I hate it when we see them dealing but they don’t have anything on them when we pick ‘em up.”
“That would make my day. Me, I’d like to see a real biker look half as good as I do in this outfit.”
Jerry saw an obvious opportunity. He scribbled in the notebook quickly, and said, “Well, I’d better head out, thanks again, guys.”
“Always glad to help,” said Rick, standing upright again. “Keep that car running for at least an hour so your battery charges up again.”
Jerry drove away, watching the officers in his rear-view mirror. To his disappointment, they got into a nearby unmarked vehicle.. He waved as he passed them on the street, wondering what kind of car he should drive next.
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The two officers had just gotten into the car when the radio squawked out, “Rick and John, there’s been a schedule change and you’re in at 8 a.m. from now on.”
“Roger that,” said John into the microphone clipped to his chest. “Cool!” he said to Rick. “We actually get to have an evening together tomorrow.”
Rick grinned. “Yeah...but why the schedule change? I thought we werre pulling late nights until June.”
John shrugged. “When good stuff happens, don’t question it.”
As they drove back to the station, Rick looked over at a street corner. A gang member was standing there, taking money from a passer-by. “Drug deal in progress,” muttered Rick the pulled up to the light. “Better call it in.”
John looked over at the same time the dealer saw his uniform and yanked the bag back from the buyer. The buyer protested, then took off when the seller yelled, “It’s the cops!”
“Shit,” muttered John. He opened the drivers’ door and stood up...
The gang banger was clutching his throat, coughing and spluttering. Rick jumped out of the car and raced over to him, John in tow. Under the streetlight, the dealer’s face swelled hideously, turning purple as veins bulged on his forehead. He bent over, his mouth gaped open and he seemed to be trying to cough something up. With a loud retch he expelled a zip-lock baggie full of white powder onto the sidewalk.
Rick whistled and said, “Ho-lee shit...” The dealer just stood bent over, drool running from his open mouth as he took deep breaths of air. “What were you thinking, trying to swallow something that size?” Usually dealers sold marble-sized balls of cocaine wrapped in saran wrap, but this one was the size of a baseball! The dealer was staring at it like it was from another planet.
The two officers handcuffed the dealer and waited for a patrol car to arrive to pick him up. A few minutes later, they continued on their way back to the station.
As they pulled up to the last stop light before the station, the light switched to red. The noise of a loud engine filled the air as a loud Harley-Davidson pulled up next to the car. John gasped.
A six-foot-two biker planted his booted foot on the pavement, balancing the stopped motorcycle. John’s gaze traveled up the biker’s body; meaty thighs and a powerful ass clad in blue jeans steadied the big bike. A full beard, brown but streaked with white, bristled down onto a beefy chest that filled out a 3XL black tee-shirt. A small, solid, round gut pressed hard against a thick leather belt, and a Harley-Davidson bandanna covered the bikers’ bald scalp.
“That guy’s wearing the same thing you are!” said John in a delighted voice to Rick, who looked over and instantly became indignant. It was clear that John was enjoying the view.
“I’d like to see that big asshole actually make a pass at you - you wouldn’t know how to handle it,” rumbled Rick.
Suddenly the biker turned to look at the two cops, one wearing his outfit. “What’s up?” he yelled over the sound of two engines. Both cops stared at him in surprise.
The light ahead of them turned green. A car behind them honked. Neither the cops nor the motorcycle moved. The car honked again, longer. The biker turned as far as his spare tire would permit, and flipped the car off, swearing loudly. He turned back to the cops, who recovered their composure.
“Nice outfit on your friend there!” the biker yelled at John.
“Thanks!” said John with a dazzling smile.
“Quit obstructing traffic!” bellowed Rick, at whichever of the two would listen.
The biker waved and roared away into the night. John shook his head to clear it, and turned the corner to go into the police station.
As the two men changed into civilian clothes, Rick commented, “What a night!”
“No kidding,” said John. “Hours setting up an undercover bust that doesn’t happen. Then, before we can get back, there’s a shift change, a guy choking on his cocaine, and. a biker...” John’s voice drifted off for a moment. “Not that you don’t look better in it....” he added as an afterthought.
Rick harrumphed as he tossed the tee-shirt and jeans into a duffel bag. The two cops went home to a well-earned nights’ rest.
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The next morning, Rick and John were showering in the locker room as usual. A half-dozen other cops were milling around, getting ready for the next shift.
As the hot water woke him fully, John said, “I can’t believe how late we were stuck out last night.”
Rick assented. “You know, that was an awful lot of stuff to happen on the five-minute trip back here.”
“Yeah,” said John. “It was a crazy night..”
“No...” said Rick thoughtfully as he soaped up his armpits. “We helped that kid with his car, right? And we were talking afterwards, and suddenly all this stuff happened. Do you remember what you said?”
“No...” said John. “Umm..wait. I said something about...about a dealer choking when he swallowed his drugs!”
“Yeah...and I was talking about hating the night shift, and...” Rick rolled his eyes. “And seeing a real biker look as good as I did.”
John’s eyes lit up momentarily at the mention of the biker, but the light dimmed under Rick’s glare. Rick continued. “And this all happened after the kid was saying he wanted to thank us...”
“What’re you saying?”
“I’m not sure...it’s like stuff we were saying was happening..”
“Well then, let’s let’s see you pop a hard-on right now.” said John.
The two men looked down quickly, but Rick’s crotch remained as sleepy as the rest of his body.
“Thanks a lot - like that wouldn’t have been awkward.” said Rick. “I’d like to see you pop a huge boner with everyone around, see how comfortable you feel.”
Suddenly John’s five-inch dick sprang to life. “Holy...” he said, looking down. “Down, boy.” He smacked it down once, playfully. It slapped back up against his abdomen with a loud *thwack* before pointing straight ahead again. Several nearby cops looked over, then looked back at their lockers, shaking their heads. One or two may have looked back again, but John wasn’t paying attention to them.
He turned towards the wall. “c’mon, not now...” he said, talking quietly to himself. He stroked it a few times, trying to think of anything that would make it go down. It seemed determined to stay hard, so upright it almost pointed at his chin.. “You okay, John?” asked Rick, his face and voice deliberately neutral.
“Not here, not now,” said John exasperatedly. “This could get us fired!”
Rick grinned. “I’d like to see that hard-on go away so we can talk again.”
John breathed a sigh of relief as dick relaxed. He soaped it up a bit as it softened, then turned around again. “So what is it?” he asked Rick
“It’s the stuff that we’d like to see happen,” said Rick. “Like...I’d like to see Miller drop his pants.”
An officer nearly tripped as his belt lost its grip and his pants plummeted to the floor. John and Rick tried not to laugh as the man hastily yanked them up and re-tightened his belt.
This was followed by several minutes of discussion about various officers on the force, how well hung they were, and just who they’d most like to see naked.
“Well heck, I’d sure like to see the Chief in here showering with us,” said John, looking around to make sure nobody overheard. “With a name like Randy Johnson, it makes ya wonder!”
Rick chuckled. “I know what you mean. Personally, I’d like to see those doughnuts start showing up on his waistline!”
The two men finally decided they’d had enough and turned off the water. They headed out to their shift, going into a day more promising than the previous one had been.
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The following day, both men were surprised when the Chief, 6’3” and 270# with a square jaw, brown moustache, blue eyes, and blonde hair on his head and body, showed up at the same time as they did. They were even more surprised when he stripped down and stepped into the shower, explaining that “he hadn’t had time” before he left home. The two officers did their best to keep their boners down around their boss, especially considering the ten extra pounds that had appeared on his trim midsection overnight.
As he was drying himself off, the Chief said quietly to John, “I hate to mention this, but it’s better here than out in public. I’ve been getting a few complaints about you using your nightstick and pepper spray excessively.” The Chief was speaking low enough that only the three of them could follow the conversation.
John almost dropped the pants he was putting on. “Chief, people don’t listen otherwise!” he said, angrily yanking the uniform back up to his waist.
The Chief calmly replied, “This isn’t a formal reprimand, John, it’s just something I thought you should keep in mind. Everyone can improve, and you’re doing a great job otherwise.”
Rick waited until the Chief had left to say, “Try using a deeper voice.”
John shot back, “It’s easy for you guys, you’re taller than most people.”
Rick pulled himself up to his full 4” height advantage over his shorter friend. “It’s not the height, it’s the badge. Doesn’t matter if you’re 6’10” or 5’3”, if you’ve got the badge people listen.”
“You don’t think height makes a difference?” said John as he put on his uniform shirt. “Okay, I’d like to see you be five-three for a day and see how well you deal with it!”
“Son of a bitch!” barked Rick as his frame began compacting, his uniform shrinking along with him. His shoes scraped towards each other across the tile as his height dwindled. John watched coolly, his gaze swiveling downward as Rick shrank to 5’9”, then 5’6”, finally stopping a full half-foot shorter than John.
It took Rick a moment to fully realize what happened. The uniform had shrunk to match his stature, and he busied himself with buttoning his shirt before saying anything further.
“You’re on, man,” he said, pointing at John. “It doesn’t matter how tall I am, I’m still the best damn cop in the precinct.”
“Don’t forget where your nightstick and pepper spray are,” said John as he left the locker room.
“Asshole,” muttered Rick as he shut a locker that looked seven feet tall.
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“Man, my day sucked.” growled the 5’3” Rick as he yanked open the door to his locker. “I never realized how much of a difference being tall made. I always thought it was the badge! I almost had to beat some gang members to make them follow orders!”
“I’m glad the chief didn’t hear you say that,” said John, “But believe me, I know what you mean.”
“Not to mention driving the squad car...even with a tilt wheel and adjustable seats, everything was hard to reach!”
John just grinned.
Rick hung his uniform up, and pulled his jeans out of his locker. They were still sized for a 6’ man, and pooled around his ankles in a small mound of blue fabric.
John laughed a little. “Okay, I think you’ve learned your lesson. I’d like to see you grow back to your normal size so you can wear your clothes home.”
Half a minute later, Ricks’ jeans fit again. “Thanks, man,” said Rick with a sigh of relief. He stretched, enjoying his recently-returned size, then pulled on a plain black tee-shirt. “Hey, uh...you’re what, five-eight?”
John, dressed to go, shut the door to his locker. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, you want me to add a few inches to that? You could be as tall as me...heck, as tall as the chief if you want.”
John shrugged. “Naaah. I’m short. I’m used to it.”
Rick grinned. “I’m glad to hear you say that, because I was just thinking how hot you’d look if you were the one who was five-three.”
John’s face didn’t lose its stunned look the whole time he shrank, his forward gaze dropping lower on Ricks’ body as he lost five inches of height.
Rick grinned smugly down from above, a bulge appearing in his pants. “What can I say, I’ve got a thing for short guys.”
“Is that so?” said John, his red goatee setting into a firm line along with his mouth. “‘Cause I was just thinking how great it’d be if you were as tall as the Chief.” It was Ricks’ turn to look stunned as he rose three inches higher above John. John’s intent look didn’t falter as he said, “What can I say, I’ve got a thing for tall guys.”
A quick glance even further down told Rick that John was enjoying the view. When their gazes met again, Rick said, “Well I’d like to see how you’d look at only five foot even, you short musclestud you.”
John shifted as his frame shrank three more inches. His muscles bulged out a little more. So did Rick’s crotch, now mid-stomach on John.
“I’d like to see you at six foot five.” said John, his dick rock-hard in his pants. Rick grinned as he rose taller above his buddy.
“Four-eleven”
“Six-six.”
“Four-ten.”
“Six-seven.”
“Whoa.” said Rick.
“What?” said John, his head tilted back to see Rick’s face looming 21” above him.
“Well...” said Rick, looking down at the diminutive red-goateed stud. “Pretty soon you’re gonna be crotch-level on me.”
John’s head swiveled down; the bulge in Rick’s jeans was already chest-level. As he faced Rick again, the short muscleguy said, “What say we take this back to my place?”
“Sure,” said Rick. “I don’t think you’re big enough to drive, why don’t I give you a ride? Four-nine.”
John grinned.
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Over the next few days, John and Rick had a lot of fun having bidding wars. Although they stayed pretty much their usual sizes while on-duty, John was starting to get used to how his apartment looked from the eyes of a three-foot-tall man. Rick, for his part, was enjoying the chance to play with his smaller buddy. Once, they’d gone so far that John had shrunk to an inch tall, riding Rick’s cannon of a cock as it bucked and shot. He described it later as “being like having a dick the size of a telephone pole.” They briefly discussed making that scene a reality, but decided the clean-up would just be too much to deal with.
Meanwhile, they had taken to bringing in a box of doughnuts every morning and leaving it at the entrance to the Chief’s office before he got in. The Chief had gained nearly twenty pounds since the beginning of the week, and his once-trim midsection had developed a small but definite jiggle when he showered.
The two officers were floored when the Chief suddenly spoke up about it one day.
“Man, I’ve got to quit with the doughnuts,” he said, smacking his midsection, which jiggled a little more than it had the day before.
Rick and John chuckled, trying to think of what to say. “I suppose...” said Rick. “...but who’s to tell the Chief what he can and can’t eat?”
The Chief replied, “Well somebody’s been trying - I keep finding boxes of doughnuts at my office in the morning. I've been throwing them away for days now and I’m still getting fatter. Look at this!” The Chief grabbed both love handles for emphasis.
The two men tried not to appear too eager to eyeball the small gut developing in front of the Chief.
“That’s it,” said the Chief as he turned off the water. “The diet starts today.”
Rick and John were glad they didn’t have keep the conversation going after that; the Chief stepped around a row of lockers to dress himself, and waved at the men as he left.
“He’s been THROWING THEM AWAY?” said John in the loudest whisper that wouldn’t carry across the room.
Rick shook his head. “He’s the Chief - if he wants to diet, we’d better knock it off, damn it. He was starting to look so good too!”
After a day where people seemed to get rather more tickets than usual, Rick and John went home together for their usual playtime. Both men got comfortable going shirtless, just wearing jeans.
Rick, looking a little tired, said to John, “Why don’t we do something different tonight?”
“Like what?”
“I’d like to see you be the big take-charge guy for once, and do whatever you want without caring what I think.” said Rick, not realizing that he’d phrased it so it would happen immediately.
As suddenly as he usually shrank, John swelled - pushing upwards and broadening like a linebacker. John continued to beef up, arms bulging with muscles bigger than Ricks’. Rick watched eagerly as his usually-smaller friend swelled into a man that could pin him without much of a fight. Soon John was a four inches taller and ten pounds heavier than his friend.
There was a rumble from deep in John’s throat, and without so much as acknowledging his growth, he barked, “I’m going out.”
Rick just stood there, dumbstruck, as the big stud charged out the front door and into his car. Rick shook his head as the high-revving engine hurtled his buddy off into the night. The shirtless, hefty cop plopped down on the couch and started flipping through the channels, wondering what happened to his fun for the evening.
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The now-larger John stormed into Chief Randy’s office, a box of doughnuts in hand. The Chief started to say something, but John ripped out a doughnut and shoved the whole thing into the chiefs’ mouth. When Randy started to spit out the doughnut, John clamped his hand over the Chiefs’ mouth. Randy had no choice but to chew and swallow. Another doughnut stifled the next attempt to speak.
“You’re gonna eat the whole fucking box no matter how fat you’re getting, damn it! Rick and I haven’t been buying these things for weeks just for you to throw them out!”
Chief Randy suddenly recognized his much-enlarged subordinate. “John?” Another doughnut was incoming; the Chief blocked it for a moment. “John, I’ll eat the whole box. Just take it easy, I don’t want to choke.”
John grunted, but was slightly more gentle as he pressed doughnuts into his boss’ mouth. Each pastry seemed to go straight Randys’ waistline; he could feel his uniform tightening every time he swallowed. Soon he’d gained back what weight he’d lost, but John kept shoving dough into Randys’ mouth the moment he opened it. Randy’s uniform became uncomfortably tight as he tried to recall how many fried rings he’d eaten. Seven? Eight?
John was glaring down as intensely as ever, but suddenly the Chief felt a hand pawing the front of his swollen gut. He grunted as yet another pastry was forced between his lips. A loud rip sounded from somewhere near his lap. Another minute of feeding, and John finally stood back from his boss. His eyes roamed up and down the chief’s body.
After a moment, it was apparent John was satisfied. Randy looked down at himself ; his potbelly had swollen so much that his uniform had burst open in front, exposing an inch of white undershirt. Randy tried to suck in his gut, but it didn’t diminish enough to re-fasten the uniform. Sighing, he sat forward and rested his elbows on the desk.
“Okay, John, now I’d like to see you calm down.” Suddenly the cross look left John’s face. He seemed lost for a moment, as if unsure what to do. A gesture from the chief indicated he should sit at a chair across the desk.
“If it were anyone else in this department, I’d have fired them ten minutes ago. What the hell are you doing?”
“Umm...” John flushed bright red, and kept trying to keep his gaze off the chef’s now-substantial potbelly - and the white undershirt showing between wide gap in the front of the chief’s uniform.
“Okay, you’re fattening me up, that’s obvious. I guess what I want to know is, how long have you been wanting to do this?”
Randy let the question hang in the air until John finally said, “About three weeks, I guess. I saw you in the shower and...”
“You mean, You and Rick saw me in the shower,” interrupted the chief.
John gulped. “Yeah.”
The chief sat for a moment, watching the strangely-large officer fidgeting across from him. “I think we need to have a little talk, John.”
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Saturday morning: a short-again John pushes to go to the beach. John drives. Rick and John get on the beach at noon, Rick is surprised to see the chief is there, and has lost all his “excess” weight. Chief takes Rick for a walk - making it clear it’s mandatory -, leaving John back at the blankets.
“The beach is a nice place to go. I love feeling the sand between my toes.”
“Sure, chief.”
“And don’t call me ‘chief’ out here. Out of uniform, I’m just Randy. Okay?”
“Sure thing ch...err, Randy.”
Chief chuckles, and after a few minutes pats his trim midsection. “I love having the chance to get out and show this body off. If I say so myself, I’ve kept in pretty good shape for a man my age.”
Rick looks over at the chiefs’ flat midsection and can’t help looking puzzled for a moment before he replied with a flat “Yeah, that you have.”
“I had the weirdest thing happen last night. This big burly guy burst into my office. Scared the hell out of me.”
Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Big fucker, at least 6’4” and built like a tank. Some of the biggest arms I’d ever seen. My first thought was that some dirtbag was coming back for revenge.”
Rick thought for a moment. “Yikes. What happened?” Inwardly, he swore at John for leaving him last night.
“It’s the weirdest thing...say, John’s about a mile back there, wouldn’t you say?”
Rick looked over his shoulder. “About that, yeah.”
Chief stopped walking. “Well, like I was saying, this big guy burst into my office and - I kid you not - started shoving doughnuts in my face! Real rough about it, wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“So what...umm...what did you do?” Rick looked at chief’s midsection again, trying to reconcile what he was hearing with what he was seeing. Chief should’ve blown up like a balloon!
“What else could I do? I sat there and let him do it! I mean, nobody would’ve heard me yell for help anyway. So I chewed and swallowed like he told me to. He still damn near suffocated me, the way he kept shoving ‘em in.”
Rick tried to think about something else as the bulge in his speedos twitched.
“So, anyway, I get my face stuffed and I swear I swelled up like a balloon. I can really put it away at thanksgiving, but I’ve never been that big before! Two buttons burst off my uniform, and he just kept shoving food at me!”
Rick turned to look at something further down the beach, facing away from Randy.
“Yeah, so...uh...then what happened?” Rick asked.
“Well, after the doughnuts were gone, I got this guy to sit down and talk to me. Not only was he one of my officers, but another one had planned it with him!”
“No. Really?” said Rick, sounding like he’d just eaten something that disagreed with him.
“I know about what you and John have been doing, Rick. Last night answered a few nagging questions, but I’ve known something was going on for a while now. I wasn’t sure at first, but when I saw you walking around a foot shorter than you should be, I knew something was up. You and John have been spending a lot of time together lately, the exact same time this weird stuff starts happening around the office. And a few of the things you’ve said after showering...what, did you think I couldn’t hear over the row of lockers?”
Inwardly, Rick kicked himself. His erection long gone, he turned to face Randy. “So why are you telling me this, Chief? Am I fired or what?”
Randy’s square-jawed face set firmly. “I told you to stop calling me that. If I wanted to pull rank on you, you both would’ve turned in your badges at ten p.m. last night.” Randy looked out at the water, then back at his fellow officer. “What we have here is clearly a difference of opinion. I think the Chief should be in good physical condition to set an example for the men beneath him. You two obviously think I look better with the spare tire. So, I’ll race you for it.”
Rick blinked. “What?”
“If you win, I swell back up to the size I was last night. I’ll even wear the same uniform to work Monday to show it off the extra forty pounds I gained.”
Rick grinned slightly despite himself, his gaze flicking to the Chief’s waistline. “And if you win?”
“If I win...” said Randy. “Same scenario, but you’re on the receiving end. First one past John wins. Ready?”
“Wait...” said Rick.
The chief started jogging. “What’s the matter? Afraid you can’t keep up?”
Rick started jogging to follow his boss. Before he knew it, they were both running at a good clip, Rick’s big chest expanded once a second, pumping air in and out of his body as he ran alongside the chief. The Chief looked over and grinned. “C’mon, you can do better than that, can’t you?” he said as he sped up slightly. A minute later, John’s blanket came into view. Both men focused on it, the sand ramming into solidity beneath their pounding feet with every step. Rick began slipping back behind the chief, which seemed to spur the Chief on. Randy pushed harder, breaths coming fast and deep as he charged toward the blanket. John was standing next to the blanket, watching the two men slowly grow larger as they approached.
Rick scowled with determination as Randy pulled further ahead. Soon he had a view of the chiefs’ broad back and muscular cheeks flexing as the men neared John’s blanket. Rick pushed with every last ounce of strength he had, his breath coming in gasps.
John watched as the two men flew past. There was only a half-second between them, but it was enough to declare a clear victor.
Both runners stood bent half-over, gasping for breath. John stepped over to them as they recovered.
“Well?” said Rick.
John shook his head. “The chief won.”
Rick swore under his breath as Randy grinned.
“Well, then...” said Randy, his muscles bulging magnificently as he walked over to the lounging area he’d set up on the sand. A moment later he returned with a large pink bakery box in hand. “Why don’t you sit down, Rick?”
“I’ll stand, thanks,” said Rick in a surly voice, John standing a few inches behind him.
“Doesn’t lose well, does he,” Randy grinned. “John, I’d like to see you swell up and shove an extra forty pounds onto Rick, like you did to me yesterday.”
Rick head an “oof” behind him. Suddenly he was pulled off-balance by two huge arms. He slammed back against John’s substantial torso. Randy stood nearby, keeping the open box of doughnuts in arms reach.
“Start eating, fatass,” John growled as he grabbed one of the fried pastries and shoved it against Rick’s face. Rick hesitated, then glared at Randy as he opened his mouth.
“That’s it,” John’s voice barked right behind Rick’s ear. The doughnut-wielding arm crossed Rick’s shoulder, pinning him back against the larger bear, while the other arm groped the small roll of fat around the officers’ middle. “You’re gonna eat everything I shove at ya. I want to FEEL you getting fatter!”
The stream of loud verbiage didn’t stop as the doughnuts kept coming. Rick could feel his body expand slightly as another load of calories was forced in. The midsection John kept groping was swelling outwards, small love handles growing more pronounced over the band of the swimsuit. Soon the fat John grabbed filled his hands, and Rick could feel a his center of gravity shifting forward as a gut started growing in front of him. Randy watched with a hint of a smile on his face, turning the box so John could reach the other half of the assortment.
Rick sputtered, his face turning red as a little too much dough was shoved into his mouth. “Yeah, that happened to me a few times too,” said Randy. “You’ve gotta keep up with him!”
This brought another barrage of verbal abuse from John, with the second-to-last doughnut poised for the moment Rick opened his mouth again.
Finally, the last doughnut was completely in Rick’s mouth. John’s hand stayed clamped over Rick’s lips until the last three-pounds-worth pastry was swallowed. Rick found himself abruptly released and stumbled forward.
“Good job,” barked John. “You finished the whole fucking box. Chief, I’m coming back for you with two boxes, and you’re gonna swell up like you’ve never swelled before. You’re gonna eat every last one, because I said so, and then...”
“John, shrink down and shut up.” ordered Randy. The barking bear seemed to suddenly forget what he was saying as he reduced back down to his athletic 5’8” frame.
Rick surveyed the damage. He’d gone from a fairly trim 270 to a beefy 310, the sides of his swimsuit completely disappearing beneath his meaty roll. When he looked down, he saw a round gut bulging an inch further forward than his chest. By the feel of the swimsuit creeping up, even his ass had widened by an inch or two. He snapped the elastic back outwards to cover his cheeks.
“So...” said Rick, looking at Randy. “We’re even?”
Randy nodded. “We’re even. For my part, I plan to lay out in the sun for a while. If you boys would like to join me, you’re welcome to do so, but I’ll understand if you just want to go home for a while.”
John and Rick exchanged a look. “Yeah, why don’t we go home...” said John. “See ya Monday,” Rick muttered grumpily as he lumbered towards the sidewalk.
As John picked up the towels, Randy said to him, “You know, I’m having a barbeque over at my place tomorrow. If you guys would like to come over...”
“Maybe,” said John, feeling embarrassed at having again been barking orders at Randy. Randy watched John meet up with Rick on the sidewalk. Then he lay back on the sand and let the sun soak into his body.
---------
“I’m glad you guys decided to come,” said Chief as he, John and Rick kicked back - after a few beers - on the patio at Randy’s house. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this thing, and I think we’ve been taking it way too seriously.”
That got both officers’ attention. Rick forgot to sulk as Randy continued speaking.
“Well...here’s what I’ve been thinking. As far as I can tell, everyone here likes everyone else. So why don’t the three of us have some fun with this? We could take turns or something, picking what happens to the other two.”
John and Rick didn’t say anything. As the silence continued, Randy added, “We can always change everything back to normal for tomorrow morning. In the meantime, what do you say?” He wondered if he was pushing too hard, but seeing these two officers in the shower every day for the last week had him ready to rumble.
There was an awkward pause.
“Who goes first?” asked Rick.
Randy set his beer down on the table. “You and I have both made John bigger, so I guess John should be the one to start.”
John blushed a little. “I...uh...well, I’ve never done anything quite like this before.”
“It’s a first for all of us,” said Randy, shrugging. “Just be honest. Tell us what you want to happen. If you want to change yourself, we’ll make it happen too.”
“Well, you guys know I work out a lot, keep myself in shape. I also have to watch what I eat. After stuffing the two of you...” John looked meaningfully at Rick’s spare tire. “I’d like to see the Chief..I mean, Randy...kick that barbeque into overdrive. I’m gonna turn into an eating machine and keep swelling up fatter while the two of you run food to me.”
Rick grinned broadly, while Randy raised an eyebrow. “Well, John, if that’s what you want...I’d like to see that too.”
An amazingly loud rumble from John’s stomach startled both men. “Feed me. Now.” he said. When his friends hesitated, John slammed the table hard enough to make the whole thing bounce up an inch before settling unsteadily on the ground. “I’m fucking HUNGRY!”
Randy and Rick stood up quickly and ran into the house. Rick flung open the pantry to find it full of chips and dip. As he ran past Randy carrying several bags and cans, he said, “Is this really how you shop?” Randy looked vaguely worried. “Hell no! That was full of canned goods this morning.” Randy turned and found himself yanking a rack of freshly-cooked ribs out of the oven just before they burned. He grabbed a fork and some napkins and ran outside.
Randy dropped the ribs on the table in front of John, who had already finished off a whole bag of chips and several of the cans of dip. “Thanks,” he grunted as he yanked off one of the sauce-soaked ribs.
Randy looked over at the barbeque, which was suddenly loaded up full of meat. A pile of hot dog and hamburger buns stood on the table to the side. As Randy charged over to unload it, Rick reappeared carrying a cooler full of beer and ice.
“John, how do you like your...” Randy said, turning towards the table. He dropped the spatula.
John was downing 12-oz bottles of beer like they were shot glasses. Empty chip bags and dip cans were scattered around the table. Ribs were flung willy-nilly on the grass; the rack was completely demolished.
“But...it hasn’t even been two minutes...” said Randy. “...that’s not possible!”
“How’re those burgers coming?” John asked. “I’m out of food here!” He smacked a midsection that had already swollen into a taut rounded bulge. “If you guys don’t keep this table loaded, I swear I’m gonna eat one of you!” John’s tone wasn’t nearly as jovial as it should’ve been.
Randy spun around and recovered the spatula, wiping it on his pants and frantically flipping two dozen burgers onto buns. Rick flung more snacks in front of the ravenous Irish cop who barked, “More beer!”. Bags burst open in his grip, and the two more cans of dip were demolished by the time Randy ran the burgers over.
“Holy shit, John!” said Randy. John grabbed two of the sandwiches before the tray even hit the table. “It’s working,” said John between mouthfuls of food. Indeed, Randy could see the spread of John's midsection already pressing itself towards the tabletop. He poked the burgeoning ball belly in disbelief. Four more burgers vanished before the eating machine said, “Bratwurst next, the biggest and most fattening ones you can buy. Where the hell’s the beer?”
Randy returned to find the grill packed completely full with nine-inch-long sausages. He quickly set about turning them, glancing over his shoulder as a Rick hauled up another cooler.
And so it continued. John growing even more rapidly as both cops ran full tilt to keep him supplied. He’d swelled from his usual 180 to a robust 220 in the first five minutes, his shirt straining to hold him in. He unhitched his belt thirty seconds later, as the bratwurst arrived. Rick lost count of the trips from the pantry to the garage and back, with stops at the table each way. Randy found himself awestruck watching the time-lapse growth of his short friend from trim musclestud to rotund tank.
John was closing in on 300. His button fly was stretched taut and the seam was straining behind his broadening cheeks. His shirt had ridden completely up over a gut that bulged against the table as he reached over it, intent as ever on finishing off the piles of food laid in front of him.
Rick stagged towards the table with a fifth cooler. John looked up to see the haggard looks on his buddies’ faces. “Okay,” he said. “That’s enough.” He sat back and surveyed the substantial pot that occupied two-thirds of his lap.
Randy turned the grill off after fifty hot dogs vanished from existence.
John grinned as Randy and Rick walked weakly towards the table and slumped in their chairs, exhausted. “Thanks guys,” he said, finishing a beer. A quick tug relieved him of his far-too-small shirt and he used it to clean the barbeque sauce and dip off his hands and face. Randy gawked at John’s bulging bod as he flung the dirty rag on the table. The short stud seemed to have expanded outwards in all directions, over three hundred pounds making the him seem far bigger than 5’8”. His midsection was so wide that he was bulging around the arms of the chair, and his ball belly pushed against the table even when he leaned back in his seat to relax.
“So...” said Rick, still catching his breath. “Now what?”
“That’s it,” grinned John. “I’ve always wondered what I’d look like if I really let myself go.” He folded his arms across his bulging midsection and smugly surveyed his bulk. “You know, it’s not at all bad.”
“Next time...” gasped Rick, “...you’re just going to blow up without us bringing all the food to you.”
“Oh, we could’ve done that this time,” said John, “but how often do you get to see your best friend AND your boss running to bring you food?” He chuckled.
Rick rolled his eyes and laughed. Randy laughed a little also, but there was something odd in the way he looked at John’s rotund build.
“Well, if you’re done, I’d like to see you shrink back to a size that doesn’t endanger my patio furniture,” said Randy. A minute later John’s pants fit correctly and he was back down to his athletic 180# frame.
“Who’s next?” he asked.
Rick and Randy both groaned. “I’m beat,” said Randy. “Why don’t you guys head home for the night. I’ll see you both tomorrow morning.”
--------
The next morning, the three met as usual in the police locker room. They didn’t say much beyond the usual “Hello”s and “Good Morning”s until most of the other officers had cleared out. Then, while buttoning his shirt, the Chief spoke up.
“You know, John, you sure seem to have all the fun here. I mean, you blew up huge last time. And you got to see Rick - what, a foot taller than you?”
Rick looked over when he heard his name.
“Two feet,” said John, grinning.
Rick cleared his throat and paid extra attention to his torso, which seemed to need drying again. “Well, it’s your turn to make a wish - whaddaya want? You want us to make you a short guy?”
“Well...” said the Chief, reddening slightly. “...not...not exactly. I don’t really know how to say this.”
John and Rick exchanged a look. Randy was usually very direct with everyone; this was the first time they’d ever heard the Chief have difficulty telling them something.
“Damn it,” said the Chief, slamming the door to his locker shut. “I had this dream last night, and now I can’t get it out of my mind. Rick was towering over me, grabbed my head, and blew me up.”
Rick’s mouth opened and closed once, quickly. He glared at his locker, which was still closed.
John gawked. “You...you want him to blow you up? Like with dynamite?”
“No, stupid,” Rick snapped. “He wants me inflate him. Into a big fucking fat guy. Am I right?” Rick’s glare shifted from his locker to the Chief.
The Chief nodded, looking oddly embarrassed.
“What?” said John inredulously. “What about that talk in your office? You almost fired me when....” John’s voice trailed off as Rick stepped over to Randy and glared up at him. “You’re telling me, that after all we’ve gone through, all that grief you gave us and the race you made me run...”
Randy cleared his throat loudly. “I’d have thought of anyone, you guys would’ve been up for this.”
“Oh, I’m up for it all right. Me towering over you and making you as big as I want you - that is something I would really like to see.”
Randy quailed as Rick abruptly swelled. His head shot towards the high ceiling, body expanding to block out half the overhead lights. Suddenly Chief Randy Johnson was staring eye-level at his subordinate’s enormous hairy chest. Rick looked with ease over the rows of lockers; there were two officers still prepping for their shift at the end of the next row. They caught sight of Rick’s enormous head and shoulders looming over the lockers at about the same time. Both gaped momentarily before grabbing their stuff and running out of the room have-dressed.
Rick began to laugh, a big booming sound made even louder by echoes from ever corner of the tiled room. Randy began to back away slowly, grabbing his shirt off the bench as he went. John just looked up at his huge friend in awe.
Rick looked down at John, who just stared back, mouth agape. “Wow,” was all John could say.
The gigantic Rick grinned down at him. “You know,” he said. “You’re damn cute down there. But...” A beefy hand that could palm a beach ball thumped against John’s midsection. “You’re kinda skinny.”
A surprised noise escape John as he found himself lifted off the ground to meet Rick’s face. “Gotta make sure this works,” said Rick. He kissed John and blew gently into him.
John expanded slightly, his small spare tire inflating enough to be noticeable. Rick eyed him appraisingly, then inhaled, his chest expanding hugely. John opened his mouth to say something, but the giant’s lips locked onto his before he could make a sound. Both men’s cheeks bulged as the gigantic Rick forced more size into his buddy. John seemed to inflate in Rick’s hands, love handles inflating into a spare tire, his chest bulging against his friends’ hands. His legs became progressively less defined, while his ass spread outwards. Abruptly, their kiss was broken as the 230-pounder dropped six inches. The giant Rick’s hands grabbed for his short buddy. John staggered a bit as he was lowered back onto his own two legs, now fifty pounds heavier than before.
“Sorry, bud,” rumbled Rick. “Almost dropped you there.” Rick eyed his now-beefy, short friend. “You’re really looking good - why don’t you show me how the extra pounds look in uniform?”
The naked John nodded mutely and turned towards his locker, a little awkward for the sudden added weight. As John pulled out his uniform pants, the enormous Rick turned to the Chief, who seemed rooted to a spot about twenty feet away.
Rick closed the distance in two strides. An enormous pair of hands planted themselves on the Chief’s shoulders. Rick quickly surveyed the uniform-clad figure of the Chief; the only thing the 6’3” 260# man hadn’t yet put on was his shoes. Rick inhaled deeply and bent down to his pinned boss. The Chief’s mouth opened involuntarily as the giant’s face neared him.
John, half-dressed, watched dumbfounded as the Chief’s uniform swelled to bursting. The giant took another breath, and the Chief passed three hundred twenty pounds, the buttons gaping across his potbelly. The straining duty belt creaked and shifted as a big round gut forced it lower in front while widening hips pushed it out sideways. Another breath, and there was a “bang” like a gunshot echoed through the room as the leather burst free of the buckle. The 6’2”, 360# Chief swelled outward, his waist going from a size 38 to a 48 and rapidly widening. His gut surged forward, bursting the suffering buttons on his uniform as his chest, shoulders, and arms pushed the remaining material to its limits. His pillowy ass seemed to square slightly as the seat of his pants strained to contain it all. Another breath, and the sounds of tearing cloth filled the room. Soon the Chief was nearly four hundred pounds of beef, his uniform hanging in tatters from his shoulders and waist. A square jaw line was partially hidden by full cheeks and a pronounced double chin. His large potbelly had lost none of its firmness, bulging eight inches in front of his chest and lapping down onto his thighs. Generous ass cheeks bulged from a burst uniform, bare skin forcing its way out of overstuffed briefs. Ripped shreds of pants swung around meaty thighs and calved. Even the Chief’s feet had expanded, widening under his increased bulk.
The chief’s hands reached for the front of his gut as it began to slip forward out of his grasp. The giant Rick was relentless, giving the Chief just enough time to exhale before blowing him up even further. John stroked his hard-on as the Chief got fatter and fatter. The chief’s round potbelly seemed determined to keep growing, pushing past his fingertips and spreading his arms out sideways. Suddenly the Chief began to squirm in Rick’s grip. He grunted incoherently, and the stiff prick being forced down by a huge belly began to twitch and shoot white jizz onto Rick’s shins.
John went over the edge, a wet spot appearing in his bulging briefs. For half a minute, the locker room echoed the sound of the two coming, multiplying them into a crowd of grunting men, yelling in ecstasy as they shot their loads.
Rick grinned and released his over four-hundred-pound boss. The Chief stumbled forward, then backwards, and sat heavily on a bench, unaccustomed to supporting his new bulk. Both Rick and John were staring at their fat superior, their weight-gain fantasy for him finally realized.
Chief Randy Johnson took stock of his new size. Round ass cheeks bulged out beneath him, claiming nearly a foot more bench than he was accustomed too. His arms pressed against substantial love handles that pushed forward into a round gut that reached two-third of the way to his knees. He tried to lean forward, but only said “oof” the firm ball gut pressed back at him.After poking at it for a few moments to make sure it was real, he looked from John up to the still-giant Rick, then back again.
“So is this what you guys had in mind when you were slipping me doughnuts?”
John nodded; Rick just beamed. Both men obviously enjoyed what they were seeing.
The Chief struggled to haul himself to his feet. He tottered unsteadily for a moment before realizing he’d have to lean back to balance the weight in front of him. He lumbered around, learning how his bulky body reacted, learning to swagger to compensate for his fat stomach swinging side-to-side with every step. He smiled faintly as he got the hang of the rolling walk, and did a lap around the row of lockers to demonstrate. The two officers were enraptured with the sight of their big boss man.
Chief Randy suddenly arched his back and thrust out his pot as big as possible. His gut swelled mightily, forcing John to step backwards. He chuckled at the startled reaction of his two friends. His hands slapped the gut in front of him, which dwarfed John’s, and he laughed in spite of himself.. John and Rick both stared as the Chief made his round gut bounce impressively. He swung his hips and gut-bumped John experimentally; this time it was John’s turn to sit heavily backwards onto the bench. The fat man seemed to be enjoying the effect his size was having on his two friends. He looked up at the mesmerized Rick and couldn’t help grinning while he bounced his ball belly again for the appreciative giant.
After a few minutes, the Chief stopped showing off and planted his hands on his hips, surveying his swollen waistline. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to undo this eventually,” he said, patting his large gut. “I mean, I don’t have any uniforms that’ll fit. And ...” he looked up at Rick. “...I just can’t send an eight-foot-tall officer out into the field! People will definitely notice!”
The smiles faded from Rick and John’s faces, but John said, “I suppose you’re right.” He took a last look at his oversized chief before saying, “I’d like to see both of you back to almost your normal sizes.” Rick shrank rapidly down to a 6’2" stature, still slightly taller and larger than before at the same time the Chief seemed to evaporate back down to 280 pounds, looking a little larger than before the whole ordeal. The men didn’t say anything as they dressed for work, the Chief grabbing a new uniform out of his locker that was still a little snug on his somewhat larger frame.
Finally, dressed and ready for the day, the three men walked towards the exit of the otherwise empty locker room. As they reached the door, the Chief said, “Wait a minute...I got off, and John got off...what about you, Rick? I don’t want you running around, um, frustrated all day.”
Rick grinned. “What’s the matter, Chief? Afraid I’m going to bust into your office with a foot-long raging hard-on and shoot all over?”
John chuckled, but stopped short when the Chief gave him a disapproving look. The Chief looked Rick in the eye and said, “You know, about one o’clock...I’d like to see that.”